Go The Distance
by AllThingsInsane
Summary: AU. Sequel to "Where There's Smoke, There's Fire." Everything is about to change. Dean is devastated when he has to share the big family secret with his brother. Will he be able to shove down his own personal feelings and help his brother cope with the ne
1. Chapter 1

**Go The Distance**

"Tell me," Sam prodded.

If only Sam had even the slightest inkling as to what he was urging his big brother to tell him. There was so much that he shouldn't know, so much that his innocent mind shouldn't have to reconcile and understand.

"Sam, _please_," Dean pleaded. "Don't ask me to do this, please."

If there was one good thing about the hunting world, and what it offered, it was that it offered protection against demons, and it afforded Sam's family a chance to defend him against anything that came his way.

It wouldn't be like that if he was told the truth. Demons would be beating a path to his bedroom door! After all, hadn't it started with him? Hadn't that demon been in _his _nursery that unspeakable night?

"I'm old enough now, Dean. I can handle the truth."

Dean shook his head, feeling the irritating tears try to force their way out of his eyes. So much would have to change if he told—by necessity—_survival. _

"You _don't _want to know."

"Are they real or not?" Sam persisted.

The kid could be adorable at times, but he was only breaking Dean's heart as he gazed at his soulful, innocent eyes. Caleb had warned him just earlier that day that there would have to come a point in time where they would be forced to share what they knew, with Sam.

Dean _thought _he had been prepared for something like that. But once he was faced with it, he realized he wasn't ready at all.

Sam didn't deserve this weight on his shoulders, didn't deserve to know that everything he had once believed, was all a bunch of crap. His entire biological family had been slaughtered by demons, and evil had almost taken one of their guardians away from them on a bonus murder charge.

"Sam-"

"Tell me."

Bowing his head, not willing to let his brother see his tears of utter sorrow and grief, Dean composed himself before lifting his head to face his eager brother.

"Are you _sure _you want to know?"

The kid had no idea what he was signing up for by pushing Dean into telling him about their big family secret. He had no idea how truly awful the truth was, and how most of it happened right under his nose.

"_Yes!_"

Dean sighed, swiping his hand across his face, hoping to gain a few precious moments of distraction, but he knew that wouldn't be possible.

The time had come for his baby brother to learn the truth about hunting and the dark and dangerous world that encompassed. Such a harsh reality for such a sensitive and happy little kid.

Now that would all change.

"First thing you have to know, is that we have the coolest guardians in the entire world."

"Really?" Sam asked, his eyes lighting up in eager anticipation.

"Yeah," Dean said with a smile. "And monsters _are _real?"

Sam's face hardly changed expression, except that Dean noticed it had fallen slightly with the revelation, but he could also see him try to control it so that he could hear more without his older brother thinking he had heard enough.

"They are?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, they are."

"Is Santa Claus real?"

Dean shook his head. "No."

If anything, Sam looked more disappointed about _that_, than anything else. It didn't surprise Dean in the least. The kid had always been a stickler for setting out Christmas cookies and milk for the bulgy old man.

"What kind of monsters are out there?"

"Lots. Some we don't even know about yet."

The only ones he knew of so far, were the spirits, ghosts and demons that possessed people. He was sure there were many out there that he didn't even know about yet.

Sam looked down, sniffling, and Dean could tell that all of this was beginning to upset his little brother, but he had wanted to know the truth and that was what he got.

"I read in Dad's journal that something got Mom. Is that true?"

Dean nodded, inhaling a deep breath in order to control his battered emotions. His mother and father's death was still an extremely touchy subject for him, and he hated to bring the same pain and confusion down on his brother. "Yeah."

"What about Dad?"

"He wasn't killed by the same thing," Dean said, as he looked down at his clasped hands. "It was something else. He was trying to find the thing that killed Mom, and something else got him first."

"If those things got Mom and Dad," Sam said, trying to connect the disjointed dots together. "Then those things could get _us._"

Dean shook his head. "Caleb and Jim wouldn't ever let that happen."

"Is that where they go when they leave for awhile?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. They fight them, and so do I sometimes."

Sam's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

Dean cracked a small smile. "Seriously."

"But don't they hurt you?"

"Sometimes," Dean conceded, "but nothing too serious."

Sam reached over Dean to grab his favorite stuffed toy, as he hugged it to his chest. "Why do you fight them?"

After all, Sam reasoned, why would his family purposefully go after the very things that wanted to hurt them? It made no sense in his child's mind, and he struggled to understand it.

"Because if we let our guard down, they could use that advantage to get to us. And we save lives."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Every single time we end up killing a demon or spirit, we wind up saving someone who otherwise would have been lost."

"You mean killed?"

"Yeah."

That was slightly better—at least there was a reason for it—at least his family were superheroes.

"Do the demons ever...win?"

"Not usually."

Dean wondered if he should go there, if he should delve even deeper into his family's backstory to Sam. The revelations he had dropped on his brother's chest, should be enough to keep him awake at night without the extras tacked on.

"Really?" Sam asked, not sounding like he altogether believed him.

The kid was too smart for his own good.

Dean sighed. "Remember a few months ago when Caleb was gone for a long time?"

"Yeah. He was working, right?"

Dean shook his head, the memory of those three months without him, was still too painful to even think about. It had been nothing but endless worrying over whether or not his guardian would be doomed to a lifetime behind bars, or be allowed to return home.

Thankfully, it had been the latter.

"Dean?" Sam prompted, when his brother hadn't answered him.

"No, he wasn't," Dean said, his voice breaking, the memory of those awful few months, was still permanently etched in his brain. "He was trying to help a family."

"Really?" Sam asked, with a smile.

"Yeah. A monster had taken out part of their family, and had framed someone for the murders."

"What does "framed" mean?"

"Um," Dean said, as he thought of the best way to word the phrase. "It just means that someone _else _did the crime, and that person—or monster, put the blame on the innocent person."

"Oh. So did Caleb save the family?"

The way Sam said it, like there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Caleb had completed the job successfully.

Dean hated to shatter that illusion, hated to clue him in on one of the darkest periods of his life. It had been enough carrying that emotional weight then, but telling his brother about it, would be one of the hardest things ever.

"Not entirely. There was a girl that was killed by the monster, and the monster framed Caleb for killing her."

Sam's mouth literally dropped open. It would have been hilarious if the situation hadn't been so critical at the time. "He _was_?"

"Yeah. For awhile, he was in a lot of trouble."

"Grown-up trouble?" Sam asked, remembering Caleb's earlier words to him.

"Yeah. He was—he was in a lot of trouble, Sam."

Thinking of just how close they had come to losing Caleb for good, was still always in the back of his mind. It was a miracle the jury had acquitted him, and a miracle that Dawn had managed to scrounge up the video evidence needed to ensure his acquittal.

"How big?" Sam asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet."Like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious big?"

"Yeah," Dean said faintly. "Like, jail big."

"Really?"

Dean nodded, using his arm to discreetly wipe away his tears. "For awhile, things were looking pretty bad."

"But he got out."

"Yeah, he did. He came home to us."

And that was what mattered the most to him. Everything that had happened before then, he would be willing to put behind him as long as things stayed the same as they were now.

"What about the monsters under my bed? Are they real?"

"No," Dean said, with a small smile. "We checked—the boogyman and the slimy green thing doesn't exist."

"Oh. Good."

"Sam, are you okay?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. So can I learn to fight them, too?"

Dean shrugged, lifting up a shoulder in response. "Yeah, I suppose you have to now."

"What do you mean?"

"Once demons realize that you know about them, you'll be more vulnerable."

"How did you learn about them?" Sam asked quietly.

"By accident—a demon had broken into your nursery, and I accidentally walked into the aftermath."

"Oh."

Sam turned from him, then. Dean could see his shoulders shake, and knew he was crying, and it broke his heart. He was regretting ever telling him anything about the supernatural world, because now he knew that Sam would be forced into the life, and he didn't deserve that weight or pressure on his shoulders.

"It will be okay, Sammy."

* * *

_I know I said "Where There's Smoke, There's Fire" would be the last official story in this 'verse, but I couldn't quiet my brain for this particular story. So here I am! _

_Review and enjoy!_


	2. Chapter 2

Even though Dean's emotions were battered from the hell of a night he had had after confiding in Sam the truth about his family's hunting life, and the fate of their parents, he somehow managed to push it all down in favor of a good workout.

It couldn't have come at a better time.

Punching or shooting anything was bound to help him release all of that pent up energy he had bristling inside of him. School had served as a good distraction, a good way to look foreword to the afternoon when he and Caleb always did their workouts together.

Seeing Sam's face fall at each revelation he him with, had been hard. Sam had asked for the truth, and he had gotten it in spades. The truth about monsters, their parent's deaths, and more.

Dean hated himself for telling Sam the truth. He hated himself for not denouncing the journal as the writing of a foolish man. That would have been the _correct_ response, the one that would have spared his brother years and years of pain and confusion, and hunting the things that went bump in the night.

It wasn't right to pin that kind of pressure on _anyone_, let alone an eight-year-old child.

For Dean, he had desensitized himself to the cruelty of the hunting world. Sure, the things he saw, affected him, but he tried to close his mind off to the brutality of it and focus on the job.

Sam wouldn't have that kind of leverage.

He was still too young.

Too innocent for this world.

"Good!" Caleb praised, when Dean threw a particularly brutal punch his way as part of their boxing routine.

It was a ritual of theirs that they tried to do every day—going downstairs to train, or going outside and shooting one of the many targets that Caleb had set out for Dean.

It was an incredible bonding opportunity for them, and a chance for Dean to get whatever was weighing him down, off his chest.

That particular day, it was Sam and all of the implications that telling him the truth, would have on him. It helped Dean to center his mind on something positive, it helped him to get his mind focused on his body and what it was doing, vs his mind and what horrors it offered him on a daily basis.

"I've been practicing," Dean said with a shrug. "One more?"

"If you want. You're really on top of your game today."

"Well," Dean said, as he paused to take a drink from his water bottle. "Just have a lot on my mind, helps to get it all out."

That was what Caleb had taught him—to utilize those training sessions to release the aggression that otherwise would have gone unchecked. It was an astounding resource, and something he had trained himself to resort to when he felt close to losing it.

"Alright, you ready?"

Dean nodded, as he eagerly switched his body into the appropriate position to fight. There were a million different poses that he had learned, but only a few they used for the standard workouts they did.

When Caleb threw the first punch, Dean was ready as he used the counter—attack that Caleb had taught him years ago. The feeling of pride, of exhilaration, was incomparable as Dean and Caleb threw a few more punches before finally stopping, giving in to the demands of their exhausted bodies.

"That—was—awesome," Dean said, as he bent over to catch his breath.

"It was," Caleb agreed, as he took a satisfying gulp from his drink. "You did awesome."

"Thanks."

"So," Caleb said, as he lounged on the sofa. "How was school?"

"Good," Dean said. "Nothing new to report."

"No new hot girls?" Caleb asked with a grin.

"Shut up," Dean said, giving him a friendly shove.

"I didn't see you much last night," Caleb remarked. "Were you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said, taking a seat next to him as he drew his knees up close to his body. "I talked to Sam last night."

It would only be a matter of time before Caleb and Jim needed to know that Sam and Dean had had that talk, and Dean preferred to get it over with before he obsessed over it any longer.

"About what?"

"I told him..."

"Told him what?"

"I told him the truth."

"About hunting?" Caleb said quietly, as he shifted his position to get a better look at Dean.

Dean nodded, not able to say the words as he discreetly wiped his eyes on his sleeve. The last thing he felt like doing, was crying. It wouldn't solve anything, and it would only make him look like a wuss.

"What brought that on?"

"He found my Dad's journal, the one you gave me."

Caleb shook his head in bemusement. How many times had he and Jim warned Sam not to go snooping in his brother's room? To never go in unless he was invited first?

Apparently, Sam had been marching to the beat of his own drummer that night, and had decided to do what he wanted.

"What did you tell him?" Caleb asked carefully.

"Everything without going into too much detail."

Caleb nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face. "How did he take it?"

"Fine. Honestly, the kid was more upset about Santa not being real than he was anything else."

"Doesn't surprise me," Caleb said, with a small smile.

"Yeah," Dean said quietly, as he bit down on his bottom lip, willing himself not to cry.

"Dean? Are _you _okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because I know how hard this has to be on you. You never wanted this for Sam, and I understand that."

Dean didn't comment.

He was sure that if he started talking about it, he would start crying and he was afraid he wouldn't ever be able to stop.

The hunting life wasn't for the fainthearted, and it wasn't for his brother. He hated that his brother had to be brought up to know the pressure and the fear that it placed on a person.

"Dean?" Caleb pressed.

"I'm fine," Dean said, as he avoided Caleb's eyes, and instead bent down over his magazine.

"No, you're not," Caleb said after a pause. "You have to talk to someone about this."

Flipping the magazine closed, he threw it aside as he ran his hands through his hair. "If I start talking about it," he said, his voice shaking. "I know I'll start crying, and I don't think I'll be able to stop."

"You can't close yourself off to that kind of emotion," Caleb counseled. "It's not healthy, Dean."

"It's the healthiest route for me."

"You might think that, but you can't stop yourself from feeling the good, as well as the bad."

"I feel it," Dean said, finally feeling strong enough to face him. "And it _sucks_."

Pushing back the irksome tears as hard as he could, he gritted his teeth against the pain he was feeling. Already, he could feel himself begin to lose it, and he hated that feeling it gave him.

"Did I ever tell you how my wife died?"

Dean shook his head.

Caleb had always been an open book to Dean and Sam, but there were certain aspects of his earlier life that he had never shared with Sam or even Dean.

"A demon had broken into the house, and had possessed her," Caleb said, his eyes misting over involuntarily as he thought back to that horrific, confusing night. "And she was pregnant."

"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly.

As if it was bad enough that his wife had died like that, she had also been pregnant. A double loss in one night.

"And," Caleb said, continuing on with his story. "I kind of lost it after that. I didn't have anything to go on except that my wife was dead, and someone had to have done it."

"So what did you do?"

"I held everything in. I found out about hunting, I met Bobby and I realized that it was a demon that had taken my wife, and I vowed revenge. I got it, but during that time, I was like a robot. I held everything in, desensitized myself to the brutality of all of _this_," he said, waving his hand in the direction of their hunting equipment.

"So what happened?"

"The breaking point came when I finally killed the thing that killed my wife. It was like all of those emotions that had been clouding my judgment, came out in full force. I let myself cry, I let myself _scream_ at everything that I had lost."

Dean listened.

"My point is: I held everything in for too long. It got to a point, where I literally _couldn't _anymore. I had to let it out."

"And so you did?"

"I did."

"But what if I can't _stop_?"

"You _will_," Caleb promised. "I promise, but you can't let yourself become like I was."

Dean nodded, as he allowed the tears to stream down his face uninterrupted. To be honest, Dean wasn't even sure he _had _the strength to fight them off anymore.

His fears for Sam were unprecedented. It wasn't fear or concern for himself, but for his brother. The thought of something getting to Sam, was horrifying and it made that possibility all the more real if he started training and accompanying his family on cases.

"Come here," Caleb said gently.

Dean nodded, as he scootched himself over to where Caleb was. As he allowed Caleb to give him a giant hug, he tried to find peace and comfort in that, but it was impossible.

The only thing that would even remotely help, would be for all of this to be a big nightmare.

And that was an impossible dream.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam was confused; everything that Dean said had made sense, but the reality didn't make sense at all. When he had first found his father's dusty old journal, he had looked through it with eager anticipation, choosing to forget the fact that he had purposefully gone into his brother's bedroom without permission.

As he looked through what he could make out, it all started making less and less sense. Monsters were real, his dad had said so in his own words. They were real, and they had burned his mother on the ceiling of _his _nursery.

His Dad then chronicled how his closest friends soon started viewing him as insane, mentally corrupt after the fire, and everything that he had started saying about his wife's death.

The hunting—a psychic friend of his had alerted him to the truth, had opened his eyes to what was unseen by him.

Not wanting to read anymore, Sam had flipped to the last page of the journal, which was dated right before he had died in Alaska on a hunting expedition.

Going to his big brother and asking him what the journal meant, seemed like the only logical solution, at least in his mind it did.

Instead of denouncing the journal as the ramblings of a grief-hardened mind, Dean had verified the journal and its contents. Telling Sam that yes, monsters _did _exist, and they had been responsible for the deaths of their parents.

Dean had also discounted the myth of Santa, telling him that the old man was nothing more than a fantasy encouraged by parents to give their kids something to look foreword to all year.

Sam had definitely been saddened about that. But it was the bigger revelations that upset him the _most_.

His mother had been killed by a _demon_. An evil, fantastical being that was only supposed to exist in horror movies and people's imaginations.

Not in real life.

His father had hunted them after his mother had died, according to Dean, and had been killed. Their guardians hunted them, too. Caleb, Jim and Bobby.

And according to Dean, they would never let anything happen to him or his big brother. That made him feel better, especially when Dean said that they trained to kill those things, and he himself had done it, too.

Even though Sam had been excited at the prospect of hunting evil, he was scared. Especially when Dean filled in the blanks about certain periods of their lives that had been caused by demons.

Their parents dying; caused by a demon.

Sam's teacher dying mysteriously; caused by a demon.

Caleb being away for so long a few months back; caused by a demon.

It seemed that every strange happening in their lives, had been caused by demons. They were the common denominator in everything that had ever gone bump in the night.

It all seemed impossible. Demons, spirits, ghosts. The last thing he _ever _expected to hear from the big brother he idolized, was to confirm the validity of the journal and its contents.

It made an already _surreal _situation, that much more real.

As a result of all the excitement he had, he hardly slept that night. Whenever he closed his eyes, images of demons, of weaponry and fighting, danced in front of his eyes.

His Mom burning on the ceiling; eyes wide and unstaring.

His father meeting his end thanks to a demon; his body lying in some backwoods area for the locals to find.

His guardians assuming the role of surrogate parents to him and his brother, fighting to protect them from the evils of the world, while simultaneously bringing them up to defend themselves.

When he finally _did _manage to fall asleep, it was well past midnight. In the morning, he practically rolled out of bed, not willing to miss the bus for anything, even extreme fatigue and bedhead.

"Hi," Sam said, when he finally made his appearance in the kitchen for breakfast.

"Morning, snooper," Caleb said, as he casually started getting out the ingredients for breakfast.

"What?" Sam said, as he looked up in surprise at Caleb.

"I know you looked through your dad's journal," Caleb said, not beating around the bush.

"You...do? How?"

It seemed that whenever he did something out of line, either Jim or Caleb was _always _there to reprimand him. Either they were secretly spying on him, or they had freaky senses that enabled them to _know_.

"It doesn't matter how I know," Caleb said, not willing to rat Dean out. "Where did you find the journal?"

Sam chewed on his lip softly. The way Caleb said it, it was like he already knew the answer and was just waiting for Sam to fess up to it.

And Sam knew that was pretty much his _only _option. If he lied and tried to deny where he had found the journal, chances were he would be caught in a lie and he knew the repercussions for _that._

"I...I found it in Dean's room," Sam confessed quietly, as he nervously kicked his feet below the table.

The guys had always been super strict with him about going into Dean's room. Now he understood why. The chances of him finding something, had been too great a chance.

"And why were you in there?"

Busted.

"I was...I was _bored_," Sam said with a slight pout.

"You were bored?" Caleb asked, raising one eyebrow in question as he set some food down for Sam. "So you did something you _knew _you were not supposed to do because you were bored?"

"I don't know."

"Sam?" 

"Yes."

Sam had always had a problem with self-control. When he got bored or became restless, he would go find something to do that he knew his guardians would not approve of.

Caleb shook his head in disbelief. "I just don't understand why the thought occurred to you. I know you were bored, but is that any reason to do something deliberately like that?"

"Dean's door was open," Sam argued. "I thought it would be okay."

"Well," Caleb said, "you know the rules. And those are, you have to wait until Dean _lets _you in. You can't go in there uninvited."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest as he tried to work some crocodile tears out. "It's not fair—you wouldn't be getting this upset if it were Dean."

"Yes, I would," Caleb contradicted as he took a seat across from Sam so he could see him better. "He has rules that he has to follow, too, just like you do."

"I don't understand-"

"You don't have to understand. If we tell you to do something, we expect you to do it."

"Fine, whatever," Sam grouched. "Sorry."

"So," Caleb said, "what did you read in the journal?"

"Nothing. Just stuff about Mom and Dad."

"And what did you think about that stuff?"

"I don't know. It scared me."

"I'm sure it did."

"Are you going to punish me?" Sam asked, after a moment of silent contemplation.

"What do you think?"

"I think no since the journal already scared me enough," Sam said, turning his big eyes on Caleb. "And I _promise _I won't _ever _do it again."

Caleb chuckled. "Dude, you can't just apologize and expect no consequences."

"But-"

"No, you have to be in trouble. You were told—literally—a thousand times times not to go in his room. You deliberately disobeyed."

"I'm _sorry-_"

"Tomorrow and the next day," Caleb said, talking over him, "you will come home from school, have dinner and then you will go up to your room for the rest of the night."

"But-"

"Sam, don't even start. You dug yourself in with this one. You knew better and you still did it anyway. Now, let's have a good breakfast, okay?"

Caleb didn't want to experience one of Sam's signature meltdowns right before he was supposed to go off to school.

"You wouldn't be doing this if it was Dean," Sam mumbled, as he refused to look at Caleb.

"What?" Caleb asked incredulously, not even believing that Sam was keeping the argument going.

"You heard me," Sam snapped.

Sam always copped a major attitude when he got in trouble for something, and this was no different.

"Don't snap at me," Caleb warned quietly, "and don't talk to me like that. Now," he said, attempting to divert Sam's mind from the issue to prevent further hassle. "You want to talk about this journal?"

"Nothing to talk about."

"Well, you must have some questions."

"I talked to Dean."

"And he told you everything?"

"Pretty much. What was the thing that killed Mom?"

Caleb shrugged, shaking his head. "We don't know yet. Whatever it was, it disappeared the night it broke into your house."

Sam nodded quietly as he sipped his drink. "And then Daddy started hunting?"

"Yeah," Caleb said, "he did. He wanted to find the monster responsible for killing your Mom."

"Oh. Is that why you never wanted me to go in Dean's room alone?"

"Because we didn't want you finding something you weren't supposed to see."

"I'm sorry."

"That's okay."


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey," Caleb said, when he walked into Sam's room. It was the day after his punishment had ended, and the kid had taken it like a pro.

At the end of the day, Sam knew when he had done something wrong, even if he argued and complained about the aftermath of his choice.

But Caleb still felt bad that all of that had to happen at once. Sam finding out about the supernatural, being grounded.

The kid didn't deserve that weight on his shoulders, and Caleb realized that more than anyone as he walked up to his superman-themed bedroom after school.

"Hi," Sam said, as he lounged on the bed on his stomach. "I'm doing homework."

"I see that," Caleb said, with a grin, as he sat on one of Sam's tiny desk chairs. "Can I join?"

Sam shrugged, as he righted himself to a sitting position. "Sure."

Caleb sighed, as he scrubbed a hand over his face. "I wanted to talk about the other day."

"When you got mad at me?" Sam asked quietly.

"Yeah," Caleb said softly. "I wanted you to know, Sam, that I'm sorry it had to happen that way. I never meant to act like what you were going through, didn't matter."

"You didn't," Sam said, "I know you care."

After all, according to Dean, everything that Caleb and Jim ever did, was work to protect him and his brother from the evils and dangers of the world.

Snooping in his brother's room had been a mistake, and it had forever altered his world as he once knew it. It was scary to know how deeply things would have to change, just because he had gone looking through things he wasn't supposed to.

"I'm glad," Caleb said, as he rubbed Sam's knee. "And I want you to know that whenever I punish you or get mad at you, it's because I love you."

"I know. You and Dean have this really great relationship with each other, and I wish that I could have that, too."

Caleb nodded, taking a moment to pause and consider Sam's words. It _was _true that he and Dean shared a bond with each other, one that they were incredibly lucky to have. One that had been born out of a shared enthusiasm for hunting, and protecting their family from the rigors and evil of the world.

"I want that, too," Caleb assured him, "and we'll get there, bud, we will. We just have to get there, you know?"

Sam nodded, as he drew his knees up to his chest. "Okay."

"Do you have any questions that we didn't cover the other day? Or that Dean didn't cover?"

Now that he wasn't in trouble anymore, Caleb figured that Sam would be more likely to open up to him now.

"I don't know," Sam said. "Dean said that you were training him to fight evil?"

"I am."

"Will you train me?"

The way Sam said it, like he was cautiously hopeful that he could start working, but also not entirely sure he wanted that, either.

Caleb wasn't sure he wanted that, either.

Sam had only _just _learned about the supernatural, and shoving him headlong into training and other physical forms of preparation, seemed rushed.

It would be better, he figured, to ease him into that kind of life. To be available to answer questions, and eventually, start training him in the most basic of self-defense and gun training.

"Well, what do you think?" Caleb finally said, as his answer.

"I don't know. I want to be like you and Dean, but I'm still scared."

Caleb nodded, an unexpected lump forming in his throat as he pulled the child close. "I understand you are, and there is no time limit on this. It can be a year from now, it can be ten as far as I'm concerned. As long as you know _enough _to protect yourself, I couldn't care less what course you take."

Sam nodded, flipping Caleb's words around in his mind. "Okay."

"I'm sorry, bud."

Sorry for so many things, but mainly that he had be brought aware of this life and its cruelty. Sorry that a simple mistake from Sam had forever changed his life.

"Me, too."

"Now come downstairs. Jim's _attempting _to make food."

"Yuck!" Sam said, as he childishly stuck out his tongue. "Do I have to eat it?" he asked, as he flipped himself off his bed.

"I think so."

"Alright," Sam said, with an exaggerate whine. "Let's go face the music."

Caleb laughed. It was _so _something that Dean would say that it was uncanny. Those two could be incredibly similar in a lot of ways, but also vastly different in other ways, too. Dean was quieter, more sensitive as he calmly took in the people and places around him.

Sam was the polar opposite. Confident energetic as he took the world by storm. After the series of revelations that had been dropped on his innocent shoulders, Caleb had seen him regress a little into his own little shell, but he was glad that they could clear the air, and he could get a glimpse inside Sam's head.

* * *

It had been awhile since Caleb had stumbled upon a case. Ever since Medina and the legal hell he had gone through in jail and in the courts, he hadn't had the time or the mental energy to even _attempt _to find a case to work on.

Sometimes, they simply landed right in front of you. As he leaned over the newspaper, he sighed as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

A bridge in a backwoods part of Nebraska, had been reported by locals as being haunted. Over a century ago, a young girl had been shoved to death by her wicked stepmother.

Over the ensuing decades, a string of murders had happened on that bridge, prompting the locals to fear the worst, and demand that the bridge be destroyed.

Usually, most people wouldn't know an _actual_ haunting if it bit them in the ass. The signs were always just out of their realm of understanding, but somehow, these locals had stumbled upon a _real _haunting.

Sighing as he swiped a hand across his face, he perused the paper some more before setting it aside. It had told him everything he had needed to put the tentative pieces of the puzzle together.

The rest of the intel would come from witnesses, family, and medical examiner reports. That was the part that made him nervous. If he was caught again, he would be facing a much steeper penalty than last time, and that was something he couldn't even _fathom _facing again.

It would be too much.

But the moral obligation he felt to protect the innocent from evil, far outweighed any residue fear he felt at jumping back in the saddle.

Due to his probation that prohibited him from leaving the town, he had been forced out of the game, but now that he didn't have such requirements on him anymore, he was free to do whatever he wanted with his time.

And that included picking up jobs again.

"Hey," Dean said, as he came into the living room, plopping himself down on the couch.

"Hey, bud," Caleb said. "What's up?"

"Not much," Dean said with a shrug, as his eyes landed on the newspaper article. "What's that?"

"Ah," Caleb said with a pause. "A new case, potentially."

"Oh."

Caleb didn't miss the way Dean's face fell as he picked up the paper and read the sordid details of the case.

"What's wrong?" Caleb asked.

"Nothing," Dean said, a little _too _quickly.

"Dean, tell me."

"There's nothing _to _tell," Dean said, avoiding his gaze. "It's fine."

"Listen, kid, I know you. Spill your guts."

Dean sighed, shaking his head, not wanting to sound like a girl as he turned to face his guardian. "I'm just not ready..."

"For me to go on a job?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Last time you went on a job like this, we almost lost you. I don't think I can survive round three."

Caleb nodded. "I know what you mean. It makes me nervous too, but we can't sit on our thumbs for the rest of our lives, either."

"Where's the case?"

"In Nebraska near where Ellen and Bill are."

"What are the details?"

Caleb had trained Dean to look at things with a hunting perspective, and he could see his work shine through when Dean asked those questions, or squinted his eyes a certain way when he read an article.

"Not much to go on," Caleb said, heaving a deep sigh. "About a century ago, a young girl was shoved off the bridge by her stepmom, and she didn't make it. Over the next several decades, more deaths happened, always the same MO as the first victim."

"Haunting?"

"Looks like it. Vengeful spirit."

Dean nodded thoughtfully. "So you're going to do it?"

"Probably."

Dean shook his head, trying not to act like a baby but not entirely ready to see him go on another job when he had barely made it through the last one.

"What if...what if something _else _happens?"

"I won't lie and say nothing _won't _happen," Caleb said, choosing his words carefully, "but I promise I'll do everything in my power to prevent it."

Dean shook his head, not even understanding why he was feeling the way he was. In a way he did, but this was their life, and he had understood that from the time he was Sam's age, and had first started training.

"Would it make you feel better," Caleb suggested, "if you went with me?"

"Seriously?"

Dean couldn't remember the last time he had been allowed to go on a hunt with one of his guardians. The last one he had been on, had been with Bobby while Caleb was still rotting in jail.

"Seriously. You think you're up to it?"

"Hell yeah! Are we going to bring Sam?"

"No. When we get back, I'll start working with him. Maybe not actually _training _him, but have him observe for right now."

"Sounds good."


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was excited as he began packing his things for the trip. It had been awhile since he had last been on a case with Caleb, and he was anxious for the unique time they would get together.

Ever since he had been released from jail, they had resumed their regular training sessions and spending time together with Sammy, but it didn't match the feeling of spending uninterrupted, bonding time together on a case.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, as he watched Dean pile some neatly folded clothing into his duffel bag.

"On a trip with Caleb," Dean replied, as he stuffed some personal toiletries into the sides of the bag.

Using the nasty shampoo and soap in the motel, was absolutely nauseating to Dean, so he opted to simply use his own instead.

Jim had imparted those words of advice to him when he had complained about it, and Dean had taken the advice to heart.

"What kind of trip?"

Dean paused, as he zipped up his bag. He still wasn't used to confiding in Sam the details of his hunts with Caleb, or where he was going. It was a whole new territory that he had yet to fully cross.

"I'm...going on a hunting trip."

Sam's eyes widened as he ventured further into his brother's room. "_Really_?"

Dean nodded, allowing an uncertain smile to cross over his face. "Really."

Even though Sam had been—and was still—freaked out by the revelations that had been dumped on his shoulders, he had begun to get more excited about hunting, and had started asking more questions.

If only he could understand that the reality was so much worse than the fantasy Sam had of fighting evil, and being around to tell the tale. Their father had probably entertained similar thoughts, and he had met his fate prematurely, too.

"What are you hunting?"

"It's a haunting. We're not sure what it is just yet."

It could be the spirit of the girl, the spirit of the wicked stepmother or something else entirely. You could never be sure until you were right there at the scene, investigating.

"How do you-"

"Gank 'em?"

Sam nodded uncertainly, as he perched himself on Dean's bed, absently kicking his feet along the base of it.

"There are different ways," Dean explained, as he switched into a pair of more comfortable clothing for the long road trip ahead. "For a typical spirit, you salt and burn their bones."

Sam wrinkled his nose, the way he did whenever he was confused about something one of his guardians or his brother had said. "Why do you have to do that?"

Dean shrugged, lifting one shoulder. "Don't know, it's just always worked for some reason. Salt repels spirits, and if you burn the bones of the person, then you get rid of the spirit."

"Oh."

"We also have guns that can shoot salt at whatever is trying to get us."

"Awesome!"

"Watch it," Dean warned. "It might _look _fun, but just wait until you _actually _start doing it."

When he had first started hunting, he had been scared, too, just like Sam. But when he was actually out on the field with Caleb or Jim, the fear had melted away and had been replaced with an almost toxic adrenaline rush that he was _still _having problems coming down from.

"I want to be like you and Daddy."

Dean smiled, shaking his head in amusement. "No, you don't, believe me."

"Yes, I do," Sam said, undeterred. "I want to be like you and Daddy, and Caleb."

Dean smiled in spite of himself, as he ducked his head to hide his grin. "Well, let's just take it one day at a time for now."

"Fine," Sam said with a slight pout. "Now that I've learned stuff from Dad's journal, can I see some more?"

Dean shrugged, hesitating. "Fine, but don't peek. I have to get it out."

Ever since Sam had found the original location of the journal, he had had to get creative in where he hid it. Under the mattress was original, but it was also some place that Sam would probably never guess would hold a journal like that.

"Can I look _now_?"

"Yes."

Excitedly turning around, Sam sat down on the edge of Dean's bed and looked over his shoulder at the different entries and photos that were scattered throughout the book.

"Is that Mom?" Sam asked quietly, pointing to a faded, torn picture that was near the beginning.

"Uh-huh," Dean said, carefully disconnecting the picture from the journal, and showing him. "And you and me, and Dad."

It had been taken outside their home in Lawrence, right after Sam had come home from the hospital. Dean could distantly recall running outside to greet his mother and new brother, and his father had whipped out his camera and had taken a portrait to capture the moment.

It was one of his most prized possessions now.

"How long after that did Mom..."

"Not long," Dean whispered, his breath catching in his throat as he quickly wiped the incoming tears away.

The subject of his parent's death was always a hard one for him to talk about. Partly because he had been old enough to have real memories of them, and partly because he remembered the confusion he felt at his mother and father's deaths.

He was glad that Sam wouldn't have that burden of grief on his shoulders.

"Dean, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?"

"Yeah."

"I have to get going," Dean said, as he picked up his heavy duffel. "You coming downstairs?"

"Yeah. Be right there."

Going on a hunt with Caleb, it had been so long and Dean was bristling with excitement as he and Caleb loaded their things into the car.

"See you later, Sammy," Caleb said, as he hoisted the boy up in his arms. "Love you."

"Love you, too," Sam said with a giggle, when Caleb tickled him unexpectedly. "Can't I go?"

"No," Caleb said, hugging him close. "Not until later, okay?"

"Okay," Sam finally said, as he stood back with Jim, who wrapped his arms around the child.

While Jim had been none too thrilled about Sam learning "the big family secret," he realized that it would have only been a matter of time, anyway.

"See you, Sammy," Dean said, as he reached out and gave his brother a friendly shoulder-punch.

"See you, De," Sam said, "be careful!"

"I will!" Dean said, as he slipped into the front seat next to Caleb.

* * *

As their car pulled out of the driveway and onto the open road, Dean found himself relaxing against the leather seating as Caleb swerved sharply onto the highway.

"Mad driving skills," Dean observed.

"You know it. You have to be quick on roads like these, where the traffic is _insane_."

"Yeah, I guess."

Dean couldn't wait to drive. He already had a number of cars lined up that he would love to own. If only he could reach the age where he could legally drive. Four years seemed like an eternity from then.

"I bet you can't wait to drive," Caleb noted.

"I really can't."

"It won't be too long—it might seem that way, but it won't be that bad."

Dean nodded, as he brought his hand up to his mouth to scratch something. "When are you going to start training Sam?"

Caleb had never revealed a set time when he would start teaching him what he knew, but it would only be a mater of time, he knew.

"There's no set time. I figure that he can observe us when we do stuff, so he'll get the idea."

"Sounds good."

Dean hated that his brother even had to _be _in that position, to have to learn to fight, to kill. It seemed too impossible, too cruel for him to even contemplate.

"You nervous?"

Dean nodded. "About Sammy."

"I know, but we'll ease him into this. It will be okay. "He's already started asking questions. He thinks what we do is cool. That _we're _cool. Which," Dean said with an exaggerated scoff, "we are."

Caleb shook his head, grinning. "You're something else. Alright, so how long does it say on the map?"

"Uh," Dean said, as he took out the map that had been stored in one of the storage places by the door. "About seven hours."

"Awesome," Caleb said with a yawn. "We'll find a place to check into, and then we'll start doing the research."

"We have to get there first."


	6. Chapter 6

It was well past midnight when Caleb and Dean arrived in the sleepy town of Hastings, Nebraska. They were both exhausted from the long road trip, as their weary eyes searched out an appropriate place to bunk for the night.

Finally spotting a vacancy sign right off the interstate, they pulled into that, grateful for the chance to rest and relax their itchy and tired eyes.

Dean waited with their things while Caleb went into the front office and checked them in. While he waited, Dean made a check of their things to make sure they had packed everything they were supposed to.

He needn't have worried. Over the years, he and Caleb had an established routine when it came to trips like that, and always knew what to pack and who was packing what.

It worked, and that was what was important.

Barely stifling a yawn, he began to get his things ready when he saw Caleb walk back toward him.

"Alright, we're in room eleven," Caleb informed him, as he effortlessly hitched his bag on his shoulder. "You okay? You seem kind of-"

"Tired?" Dean guessed.

"Yeah, I was going to say that."

"I am," Dean said, as he squeezed his tired and itchy eyes.

"Well, get some shut-eye if you can. Tomorrow, the real work starts."

They couldn't do much under the cover of darkness. In the morning, they would venture into town and see if they could convince any of the locals to give up any new information.

Inside, their motel room had an eighties design to it, and a center table that quickly became the focal point for their research. As he deposited the carefully put together articles and writings, Dean sank down into the nearest chair as he started pulling it all toward him.

"So give me a run through again," he said to Caleb, as he squinted his eyes at the black and white image of the bridge in question.

"Over a century ago, an eight-year-old girl was shoved to her death on Greenwich bridge. The only witness to her death, was her stepmother."

"And they know she did it?"

Caleb nodded. "Apparently, from all of the information I've gathered. It doesn't say much else, so that's why we're hitting up the library in the morning."

The library would be a perfect place to scrounge up local lore and the history of the place, especially something as infamous as the bridge that had been blamed for over a dozen deaths over the ensuing decades.

"So we're either dealing with the spirit of the girl," Dean said, as he scanned the contents of the ancient newspaper article, "or the spirit of the wicked witch?"

"Or both," Caleb remarked, as he checked the salt rounds in his gun. "It's not unheard of for two spirits to be haunting the same place or area. One could be benevolent. The other could be _malevolent_."

Dean nodded slowly, processing Caleb's words for fact. Over the years, he had been trained to look at things with a new set of eyes, to see things from a hunting perspective.

It had all been part of Dean's meticulous training under Caleb's care. While Dean excelled in the physical training of the job, he also liked challenging his brain to work in different ways, as he picked out the clues that most people wouldn't even _dream _of looking at.

"So we'll know more when we go poke around town?"

"Yeah," Caleb assured him. "In the morning, we'll go to the library to see what we can dig up, and then maybe go pay a visit to the bridge and see what we find there."

"Awesome," Dean said in a slight sing—song—voice. "Ready to hit the sack?"

Caleb nodded, as he scrubbed a weary hand over his face. "Yeah, I just have to hit the shower first."

"Kay."

"Throw me some of your soap?"

"Sure."

Like Dean and Jim, Caleb shared a similar distaste for the motel—issued soaps and shampoo, and preferred to use his own.

While Caleb was in the shower, Dean took that time to call Sam and check up on him, and then cleaned up their research from the table, and put it back where they had originally decided to store it.

When Caleb finally got out of the shower, Dean was already in bed, lying on his back as he stared up at the ceiling.

"You sleeping?"

"No," Dean said, shaking his head. "About to."

"Yeah, me too," Caleb said, as he picked up the salt bag from his bag, and meticulously salted the door and one window in the room. "Just to be safe," he said, catching the questioning look Dean threw him.

"Okay. How was your shower?" Dean asked, as Caleb laid down in the bed next to his.

"Great. You know," he said, looking over at Dean as he switched off the lamp that stood between them. "I don't have a lot of room to complain about the motel soap."

"Why?" Dean asked, as he propped himself up on one elbow.

"Because in the detention center, they only had this one particular kind of soap, and it was awful."

"Was it?"

"Oh, man," Caleb said with a groan. "It was awful. You never got clean, but maybe that's their intention."

Dean laughed, though uncomfortably. "Glad you're not in it anymore."

Boy was he ever.

"Me too."

* * *

Sam was nervous; this was the first time that Dean had been gone, and he knew the real reason for it. As he sat on the couch watching his favorite show, he tried to take comfort in the fact that Dean had just called him, and joked around him with him like he usually did, but he couldn't escape the feeling that his brother and Caleb were willingly walking into danger, and he couldn't do anything to protect them.

"Hey," Jim said, as he came into the room. "What are you doing in here by yourself?"

Sam shrugged. "Watching _Thunder Cats_."

"Well, I was just about to start dinner. Why don't you come out and help me."

Sam looked up at him, as he winced. "You're going to cook?"

It was a well documented joke that Jim wasn't as good of a cook as Caleb was, and the boys loved to rib him about it.

"Hey! My cooking isn't _that _bad," Jim said, feigning hurt.

"Well-" Sam said uncertainly, as he turned off his show to follow Jim into the kitchen. "On a scale of one to ten, it's an eight."

"Well, I'm just glad I rate _somewhere _below ten. Are you okay?"

Jim had noticed the far—off look in Sam's eyes as he began helping set the table.

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. "Just worried about De."

"I know you are," Jim said, as he came up behind Sam and gave him a hug. "But he's very safe with Caleb. He would have never taken Dean on this job if it was something he couldn't handle."

"I know, but what if something gets them _both_?"

"It won't happen," Jim assured him. "They can do those types of hauntings with their eyes closed."

"But," Sam said, as Jim handed him some plates. "Didn't Caleb get sent to jail because of a hunt?"

"He did, but that was an entirely different set of circumstances, and he wasn't hunting the same thing he and Dean are hunting now."

"Oh."

"Try to take it out of your mind. After dinner, do you want to try to teach me one of your video games?"

"Sure."


	7. Chapter 7

Dean was able to fall asleep fairly quickly that night—he was exhausted, and it clearly showed in his face, as he finally turned over on his side into a more comfortable position, and let the rain main claim him.

Over the years, he had grown used to sleeping in various motel rooms whenever one of his guardians would allow him to accompany them on a hunt. As a result, even though he preferred the comfort of his own bed, sleeping in a motel one didn't bother him as much.

When he finally woke up the next morning, he fought it as he tried to fall back asleep. He hadn't entirely recovered from the long trip he and Caleb had traveled the previous day, and just wanted a few more minutes worth of sleep.

Glancing at the alarm clock on the end table between his and Caleb's bed, he saw that it was nearing seven thirty. Too early to go to the library to begin the first full day of investigation, but plenty of time to get himself together for the day ahead.

Begrudgingly throwing the thin covers aside, he dug out his toothbrush and toothpaste from his overstocked duffel bag, and some fresh clothes, and went into the bathroom to enjoy a refreshing shower.

By the time he had gotten clean, and had brushed his teeth, Caleb was already up, sorting through the amount of newspaper articles they had found on the bridge.

"Hey," Dean said, as he leaned down to retrieve a soda from the mini-fridge in the motel room. "When did you get up?"

"Uh, a few minutes ago," Caleb replied distractedly, as his eyes scanned the print on the paper for the thousandth time since stumbling upon the case.

"Oh, awesome," Dean said, as he took a long gulp of the favored drink.

"Soda in the morning?" Caleb asked, raising one eyebrow in question.

"Yeah, why not?"

Caleb shrugged. "Just don't let Jim see you getting into that habit."

Truth be told, he didn't care if the boys drank soda sometimes. He knew he wasn't necessarily good for them, but he chose to pick his battles when it came to stuff like that, and if it calmed Dean down and put him in a better mood, he would let him drink it.

"He already knows."

"Does he, really?" Caleb asked with a faint grin. "I'm surprised he didn't put you on soda lock down."

"Yeah," Dean said, laughing, as he set the soda down. "It was while you were gone. I don't think he wanted to impose any crazy rules on me while all of that was going on."

"Probably a smart idea," Caleb said, as he gathered some of the research they would take with them to the library.

"Yeah, no kidding."

Once they arrived at the local community library, they wasted no time in finding the section of library that dealt with their town and its history. There were so many books and pamphlets that it was almost impossible to discern where the right books were.

"Is there anything I can help you two with?" one of the employees asked, as he watched them fruitlessly search for the right source material.

"Yes," Caleb said, as he straightened up. "We're looking for some specific articles or books that deal with something that happened in your town."

"Okay, what are you looking for?"

"The incident on Greenwich bridge with the little girl," Dean said. "Do you know where that stuff is?"

"Well, of course," the nice man said, as his fingers expertly weaved through the various books and booklets to search for the one they were looking for.

"Here's something right here about it," he said, as he handed it to Caleb. "And I have a box of collected articles about it, if you want to look at those, too."

"That would be great," Caleb said gratefully, as he and Dean chose an abandoned table to start the arduous process of sorting through the collected articles. "Can you bring them over here?"

"Sure can."

While they waited for the man to reappear wit the box of the collected newspaper clippings, they began to sort through what the man had already given them, which was more than what they had managed to gather at home.

"Have you got anything?" Dean asked, as he scanned through a brief history of the bridge, which had been built in the late 1700s.

"I might. The father of the little girl, he had cheated on the woman, it says."

"So she killed the daughter?" Dean asked incredulously.

"A motive isn't mentioned here, but it's a really big possibility. If she knew the daughter meant so much to her husband, then maybe she killed her out of revenge."

"Sick," Dean muttered to himself, disgusted.

Spirits, demons, he understood them. He understood their motives, he understood there was nothing human about them. They were easy to understand, but humans never made a lick of sense to him.

Their motives, their reasons for committing such an unspeakable crime. It boggled his mind sometimes.

"We don't know if that's what happened yet," Caleb said, catching the sickened look on Dean's face. "It's a guess, though."

The man reappeared with the box of reports he had promised. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Dean said, as he and Caleb each started pulling out different reports and articles.

"Do you know anything about this bridge?" Caleb asked, figuring it wouldn't hurt to ask what the man knew, if anything.

"Not a lot," the man replied, "it was tragic, though. The poor husband, the poor _father_."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, as he traded glances with Caleb.

"Well, his first wife, the mother of his daughter, died of scarlet fever. She was the love of his life, and then he remarried because he figured his daughter still needed a mother figure in her life, and that was more than he could provide for her."

"So he remarried because he wanted someone for his daughter," Caleb surmised.

"Yes. He remarried to a woman of notable upbringing; came from a good, respectable family, and he assumed that she would be the perfect fit for him and the daughter he cherished."

"Right," Dean nodded slowly, as he tried to put the pieces together in his head. "But everything wasn't perfect?"

"No. After awhile, according to some of their family, there was discord in the union. He became angered when she didn't show the same type of love to the little girl, that he would have liked, and he started to have a wandering eye. And you know in those days, it wasn't ever talked about. It was kept behind closed doors."

"Right," Caleb said, "so how does this end up with the daughter being killed?"

"Well," the man said, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "The woman knew that this man treasured his daughter. She was the last physical remainder he had of his late wife, and he wanted to hold onto her, and she took that away from him as a form of punishment."

"So she killed her."

"Yes. She drove the poor girl to the bridge, and shoved her off it to her death."

Dean shook his head, his heart filling with sympathy for the poor little girl and what she must have gone through in her final moments.

"So what happened after that?" Dean asked, regaining his voice after a moment. "Did the police ever catch on to the fact that she had done it?"

"Well, yes," the man said, "back in those days, there was a certain...purity and innocence about the world, and especially this town, and no one wanted to believe that something that sinister could happen. It was all kept very hush—hush. The woman was convicted of the murder, and sentenced to hang."

"So she did?" Caleb asked.

"Yes."

"What happened to her husband?" Dean asked.

"He eventually died. Some say that he died of a broken heart. He had lost his wife, his daughter, and the woman that he trusted with his daughter's life."

Caleb nodded, knowing very well how it felt to lose someone so important. "Where—where are the woman and daughter buried?"

"Well, the daughter's body was never recovered. Which of course only added to the poor man's grief. The woman was buried in an unmarked grave."

That wasn't good; it only added to their workload in trying to identify which spirit was causing the upheaval, or if it was both. Not having a physical body to burn, would only increase the time they spent in that town, trying to figure out how to get rid of the spirits, and stop the killings.

"So what now?" Dean asked, as they walked out of the library with their research in hand.

The man had been nice enough to loan them the box of information he had shared with them, on the condition that they bring it back in the condition it left in.

"Now we pay a visit to that damn bridge."


	8. Chapter 8

Dean was anxious to visit the bridge. The infamous Greenwich bridge was at the center of all the murders that had happened over the last century, and he was excited to finally be able to see it, and more importantly, maybe solve whatever had happened there.

The trip to the library had been helpful in pinning down exactly what had happened so many years ago, but had done little in helping them determine _who _was the one haunting the bridge, and sending all those children to their deaths.

"I had a theory," Caleb said, as he veered sharply off the main drag of road, and onto a more rural dirt road that led to the bridge at the center of their investigation.

"That's _shocking_," Dean said, grinning.

Whenever a new hunt was up on the plate, his mood drastically changed. It was always exciting for him when he was allowed to go with one of his guardians on a hunt. It was adrenaline—fueling, and it gave him that rare time to bond with the guys one-on-one.

"Shut up," Caleb said, shaking his head, as he grinned. "Anyway, I was thinking that _maybe _there's _two _spirits haunting that bridge."

"Hmm," Dean said thoughtfully, as he turned Caleb's words over and over in his head, as he considered them.

So far, he had only dealt with one spirit per case. It was highly unusual to actually have the chance to deal with two at the same time. Usually, spirits didn't like to share a dwelling, they were protective of the space they considered theirs.

"What do you think?" Caleb asked.

"I guess it's possible, but I've never dealt with two at the same time before. I thought they only haunted one place, and were protective of that space."

"Typically, that's the case," Caleb explained, as they neared the bridge. "But I dealt with a case a couple years ago where one spirit was trying to warn the people in the situation, and the other spirit, was the one actually trying to hurt them."

"Wow. I thought they were all bad, you know?"

After all, that was what he had been taught; that spirits and other supernatural beings, were evil. They only cared about vengeance, and destroying the people or things they thought responsible for their demise.

"Mostly, that _is _true, but there are rare cases when a spirit is actually just trying to warn people away from the area, and it's the bad one that is doing all the killing."

"But the bitch responsible for killing the girl, was buried _away _from the bridge," Dean said, recalling the information they had received from the helpful employee at the library. "How could the witch _still _be there?"

"Well, her spirit either lingered on after her death, or she followed the girl back to the bridge. It's been known to happen a few times, but nothing like this."

"What the hell?" Dean muttered, as they pulled up the bridge.

A small crowd had gathered around the historic bridge, as a construction crew was laboriously taking it apart. Several of its beams had already been demolished, and the way Dean and Caleb saw it, they were now carefully working on destroying the ground around it.

"What's going on?" Caleb asked, as he and Dean walked up to an elderly lady who was standing far apart from the commotion, just wanting to observe.

"Oh, well, the town finally had enough of all this bad luck surrounding this bridge, and decided to take it down."

"Oh?"

"Yes. A little girl died last night on here, and they finally obtained permission from the city to tear it down."

"It's going down _tonight_?"

"Yes."

Dean and Caleb traded stunned glances with each other. It was rare that a job would literally be taken out of their hands by someone else. They had come to the bridge fully intending on stopping the spirits, and then going home.

But apparently someone had beaten them to it. It was just too bad that another girl had to die before the town took notice.

"Thank you," Caleb said, knowing their work, for the moment, was done.

"That's a bummer," Dean said.

He had been looking foreword to investigating the bridge, and identifying the spirits responsible for causing the destruction.

"In a way, we're lucky," Caleb said, as he pulled Dean against his side as they walked. "But tomorrow, after it's been torn down, we'll go back and burn the area around it."

"Okay," Dean said, allowing a small smile to grace his features.

At least he would be allowed to, at least somewhat, take care of the job, and insure that the spirits would be well and truly gone from sight.

"I know you're disappointed, but it happens. Someone else comes on the scene, another hunter, or in this case, a construction crew, and you know your job is done for the moment."

"But how are we going to know if the spirits will rest _just _because the bridge is being torn down?"

"They need to have the bridge to have a foothold. That's what's keeping them tied here. Maybe if that's taken away, they won't have anything else to hold on to."

"And that's why we're burning the remains of the bridge-"

"To make sure that they'll stay away."

Later the following morning, Caleb stayed true to his word, as he and Dean packed up their salt guns, as well as their lighter gear, and made the long drive back to the bridge.

All that remained of the once beautiful bridge, was now debris and cluttered piles of wood as it laid in a messy, disorganized pile for later removal.

"Alright," Caleb said, as handed the gas over to Dean. "Make sure it's all over the place."

"Duh," Dean said, as he playfully rolled his eyes, though secretly, he was glowing with pride in the fact that Caleb trusted him enough to make quick work of spreading the gas around the wood and debris pile.

"Alright, make sure you check the rounds in your salt gun in case the spirits appear."

"I already did," Dean replied, as he got the matches ready.

"Check again," Caleb said, turning around to face Dean. "You never know when-"

"Caleb!"

Dean had seen the spirit of the little girl out of the corner of his eye, and if had been able to make a clear shot, he would have.

As it was though, Caleb spun and fired a shot so fast at the spirit, that it near instantly vanished, repelled successfully by the combined effects of the rock and salt.

"Alright," Caleb said, breathing heavily, as he turned to look at Dean. "See, even though the bridge was destroyed, the spirit was still lingering around. If we torch this pile right here, it should take care of the problem."

"Okay," Dean said, still wide-eyed, his heart still beating frantically at the near close-call.

"You want to do the honors?"

"Gladly."

Swiping the match right the first time, Dean quickly threw the lit match on the pile, before stepping back with Caleb, and watched as it quietly burned through the wood pile.

"I don't see the spirits anymore," Caleb said, looking around for any sign of the little girl.

"I don't, either," Dean said, wiping his brow.

"Let's get home."


	9. Chapter 9

Even though he was relived that the hunt was done with, and the spirit (or spirits) were finally put at rest, Dean almost wished there had been more action to go along with it. It had been dumb luck that a construction crew had been picked to demolish the thing, and essentially, solve the job _for _them, but he still wished that it had been more interesting.

"You disappointed?" Caleb asked, as they began the tedious process of packing their things up from the motel room, and loading it into their car for the long journey home.

"A little," Dean admitted, as they finished packing the rest of the things in their car, and started the long drive back home. "I just wish-"

"That we could have had more action?" Caleb guessed.

"Yeah. I haven't gone on a lot of jobs lately, and it would have been great to do something really exciting."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Caleb said, as he pulled on his sunglasses to combat the harsh, unforgiving sun that was profusely beating down on them, "but for the first hunt that we've done together in quite awhile, I think it went pretty good."

"Yeah," Dean said with a shrug, as he pulled on his own sunglasses. "And I saved your ass."

"You did," Caleb agreed. "Good eyesight."

"Good shot," Dean countered, giving him a pointed look.

"Thanks."

Relaxing back against the seat, Dean stared out at the early morning sun as it steadily rose into the sky, providing them with perfect viewing conditions to safely arrive back home.

"It's a shame we couldn't stop by and see Ellen and Bill," Caleb remarked.

"Yeah, I know."

Caleb hadn't seen them since before he had gone to jail, and Dean had seen them at a time when he had been so devastated by Caleb's leaving, that going out of that toxic town, had been the only thing that had kept him sane, and had enabled him to enjoy himself for once.

"Are you excited to see Sammy?"

"Yeah," Dean said with a smile.

Even though he always enjoyed his hunting trips with Caleb, the one aspect that was hard, was leaving Sam behind. Even though he knew Sam was perfectly safe back home in Minnesota, he missed having him around, he missed their teasing, and their special talks with each other.

But he felt much better about Sam being out of the line of fire, than he did him being in it. Even though he knew that time would rapidly be coming to a close when Sam began training, like he had done.

"I thought that instead of throwing him into training, he could just watch us for awhile, and kind of get the idea of it all."

"Yeah, I like that idea."

It would ease them _both _into the idea of it, without forcing either of them into it headlong. Sam was still processing everything that he had been told, while Dean was still coming to grips with the fact that his brother was now in the same position that he had been in, having to learn everything about the supernatural, and all the horrors and nightmares it gave you on a daily basis.

"I thought you would. When we get home, I might start working with you on some more advanced stuff."

"Really?"

That was new; it had been awhile since Dean had had the chance to work on more advanced forms of training. He liked the routine they were in now, where he learned to perfect his aim and the punches that he threw.

"Yeah. We'll still work on the shooting, but you need to learn how to exorcise demons, too."

"Seriously?"

That was one aspect of the job that he had been most eager to start learning. Exorcising demons seemed like the coolest—and the hardest job—and he couldn't wait to get a firm handle on that, so he would be entrusted with going on more complicated jobs.

"Seriously. It's not easy, though. The stuff you have to memorize, is one of the hardest things you'll ever have to learn."

"I know," Dean said, with a shrug. "But I have to learn it at some point, right?"

"Right."

"So it may as well be now."

"True."

The kid was too smart for his own good sometimes.

"I just seriously wish I could start interviewing people, though."

That was another part of the job that he couldn't wait to assume.

"That will have to wait a few years," Caleb said. "You have to _look _old enough to pass for an adult, and you have to be able to carry the right licenses and ID's without people questioning it."

"Right."

Even though he was disappointed, he understood how important it was to move along slowly, to make sure that he was ready for each new advancement in his training.

"It will come," Caleb assured him. "Though it might seem like _years_."

"You got that right."

As predicted, Sam was thrilled when they returned home safely. Without missing a beat, he first gave Dean a giant hug, and then jumped into Caleb's arms.

"Did you miss us?" Caleb asked, as he tickled the hysterical child's sides.

"Y—y—yes!" Sam said, between fits of laughter, as he squirmed ferociously in Caleb's arms. "You're tickling me!"

"You're right," Caleb said, feigning a look surprise, before switching his attack to Sam's stomach, where he blew on it.

"Stop! S—stop!" Sam said, laughing uncontrollably.

"I don't know," Caleb said thoughtfully, "should I?"

"Yes!"

"But I was having so much fun."

"Not me," Sam said, pretending to sound offended, though Caleb knew better.

"Oh, really?"

With that, Caleb resumed his tickling of Sam's stomach and sides.

"I lied!"

"And you know the penalty for lying," Caleb said, mock seriously. "What's the magic word and I'll let you down?"

"Please! Please let me down!"

"Alright," Caleb said, with a sigh. "I _guess _I can let you down."

"Thank you," Sam said, sticking his tongue out at him.

"How old are you?" Dean asked.

"Eight and three quarters," Sam said proudly.

"Oh, I thought you were _three. _Sorry, my mistake."

* * *

After the long hunt, Caleb and Dean were both exhausted from everything that had happened, but they were also eager to start their training schedule back up again. Dean, for his part, was excited for Sam to observe his and Caleb's routine, and get the idea of what they were doing.

"Sam, do you want to watch?" Caleb asked, as he and Dean began to head downstairs for their session.

"Really?" Sam asked excitedly, jumping up from the couch where he had been watching one of his favorite afternoon cartoons, and followed them down into the spacious, open basement.

"Really," Caleb confirmed, with a smile.

Ever since Sam had found out the truth about the supernatural, he had wanted to be included in their special training sessions, and while he wouldn't actually be picking up a pair of boxing gloves, and doing it himself, he was still excited to be able to watch his big brother and guardian in action.

Once they were down in the area where they would be training, Sam sat himself on the large, sectional sofa, and watched as Dean and Caleb got out the special equipment they would use for the workout.

"What are those?" Sam asked, as he raised a hand to scratch something on his nose.

"Boxing gloves," Dean explained, as he shoved his hand into the tight, but comfortable hold. "They protect your hands and they protect your face if someone takes a swing at it."

"Oh."

Shaking his head in amusement, Dean turned back toward Caleb. "Ready?"

"You bet. Okay, Sam, when we do this," Caleb said, as he took a preliminary swing at Dean's face, "we have certain rules we follow for safety reasons."

"And what are those?"

Sam's mind was like a sponge, constantly absorbing whatever his guardians told him, and storing it for later retrieval.

"First, no stomach hits."

"Why?"

"Because you can hit the liver or the kidney, and you don't want that," Caleb explained.

"Okay."

"Second, no hits to the eye for obvious reasons."

Sam giggled. "You don't want to poke his eye out."

"Exactly."

"Although, that _would _be awesome!" Dean said, "right, Caleb?"

"One less eye? Yeah, sure," Caleb said sarcastically, "no biggie."

"You know, one thing I never understood," Dean said casually, "why can't we ever fight without the gloves?"

"Because you know why. We don't want that awesome face scarred up."

"Yeah, but demons don't care about my _awesome face_," Dean said. "Why not fight with fists?"

"Because I'd rather you go away from these sessions, actually having _learned _something, not a trip to the ER."

Dean shrugged, as he turned back to face Caleb. "You ready to do this?"

"You bet."

For the next half hour, Sam watched in complete fascination as Caleb and Dean performed a variety of different kicks and punches.

By the end of it, Sam was grinning ear from ear. "That was awesome!"

"You think so?" Dean asked.

"Totally!"


	10. Chapter 10

Sam was excited; he, Dean and Caleb were going out into some of the wilderness in their area in order for Sam to learn how to track. Although, the target wouldn't be monsters, but would be the local wildlife in the area.

Sam, being the nature freak that he was, was excited for the opportunity to explore more of the wildlife in his area, and spot some creatures that he otherwise wouldn't have had the opportunity to see before.

"Alright, it's hot," Caleb said, as he passed out some water bottles. "Drink these, but make sure not to waste them, okay?"

"Okay," he and Dean chorused.

Sam obeyed when it came to following "serious" rules when it came to hunting, and any of the safety rules that Caleb and Jim imposed.

"Alright, Sam," Caleb said, as he beckoned the child over to him. "You want to know how to track deer?"

"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "I want to know how to track _monsters_."

Behind him, Dean stifled a laugh behind his hand.

"You'll get there," Caleb assured him, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder, "but for right now, the goal is to ease you into this _slowly_, so for right now, you'll be learning to track something that _won't _tear you to pieces."

It was obvious Sam didn't like being told he couldn't track monsters. His bottom lip turned upward into a pout, and he crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

"Sam," Dean said, going over to his baby brother, and getting down on his knees to his level. "You have to listen to Caleb. He's been doing this a whole lot longer than any of us have, and he just wants you to be safe."

"I know, but I want to see a monster."

"I know, bud," Caleb said gently, "but I want you to be ready when you see one. And you may _think _you're ready," he added when Sam opened his mouth for a rebuttal, "but you're not. You only _just _started learning some of this stuff."

Over the last few weeks, at Sam's eager insistence, Caleb had slowly started training him in much the same way he had initially started working with Dean. Basic self-defense with the boxing gloves that included different punches and kicks.

Needless to say, Sam loved it. He loved looking to his big brother for his approval, and was rewarded all the time when Dean gave him a double thumbs up sign.

Now, Caleb was confident enough in Sam and his blossoming abilities, that he had decided to take he and Dean out into the wilderness to track deer so Sam would get the idea of how to track a demon or other monster.

"Fine," Sam said, after a few moments of silence.

It was obvious Sam had been silently debating the pros and cons of continuing the argument, or getting the chance to learn more about the hunting world that both fascinated and terrified him.

While most of the fear had gone away after he had had a chance to come to grips with it, he was still excited about learning what his family knew, was excited about being _just _like his brother and guardian that he looked up to.

"Okay," Caleb said, as they began the backbreaking walk through the rough terrain of the forest. "What's the first thing you look for when you're tracking deer, Dean?"

"You look for marks on the trees, if it's a buck."

"Marks?" Sam asked curiously, getting into it despite himself.

"Yeah," Dean said, "when bucks want to brush up on their fighting skills, they brush their antlers against the tree."

"Really?" Sam asked, eager to hear more. "So how do you use all that to find them?"

"There are other clues you can look for," Caleb explained, as he walked a little ahead of them to keep his eye out for any uninvited guests.

"Like what?"

"Like, right here," Caleb said, as he leaned down and inspected some grass that had been conspicuously pawed away. "Sometimes the deer paw the grass away so they can leave their scent for other deer."

"Cool," Sam said, completely in awe of what he was learning about his beloved nature animals. "How do you know all this?"

"Experience," Caleb said, looking up at him. "Years of it. Your brother knows a lot of this, too. It's all about having the experience, and knowing and memorizing what to look for."

Sam nodded. "Okay. What else?"

"Next," Dean said, "you look for tracks; fresh tracks. You can't confuse them for older ones, either."

"Okay."

"And then you have to be quiet," Caleb said, making a shushing motion by putting his finger to his lips. "If a deer hears you, they'll be long gone from the area in about five seconds flat."

"Okay," Sam said quietly. "We're not going to _kill _the deer, right?"

He had seen the silver handgun in the back of Caleb's jeans, and was slightly nervous at the prospect of actually hurting something that he loved, and loved to study.

"No," Caleb reassured him. "We're not going to kill the deer. This is for protection against anything _else _that may be watching us."

"Like monsters?"

"Yes."

Any number of things could be out there, and Caleb knew it. Open areas like forests and wooded areas, was chock full of Wendigos and Skinwalkers. It was better to be armed against them, than take the chance and not be prepared at all.

"Have you heard anything?" Dean asked.

"About what?"

"Anything being out here."

"No," Caleb said, shaking his head, as he brought his one hand behind his back to take a firm grasp of his gun, "but you never want to be hasty in thinking that nothing won't be out here."

"True."

Too many times hunters had gotten cocky, and had foolishly left their weapons behind when they entered an area they considered "safe." They had paid the price for their mistake, and Caleb was determined not to follow their path.

"Okay, Sam, I'll teach you something else, too."

"What?" Sam asked eagerly, as he sped up to walk next to Caleb.

"Since the deer have super scary hearing, if you step on the wrong thing like a twig or a crunchy leaf, it can scare the deer away."

"Oh, really?"

"Yup, so you gotta be careful where you step. Sometimes you can't help it, but if you can, try to step on some grass, but try _not _to step on the twigs or leaves."

"Okay."

Caleb could see Sam was taking everything he told him, very seriously. His earlier disappointment at not being able to track monsters, was gone as he watched his every step, careful not to step on any leaves or twigs.

"Stop," Caleb said suddenly, throwing out an arm and halting Sam and Dean's movements.

"What?" Sam asked, his eager eyes scanning every square inch of the forest. "I don't see any-"

"Sam!" Dean whispered loudly, "be quiet."

Unlike his hyperactive little brother, Dean had taken the time to examine what Caleb was looking at, and saw it, too.

A large buck that appeared as if it was about to engage in a turf war with another buck that had appeared in the midst of the serene scene.

Not making a sound, Caleb and Sam and Dean stood back a good distance, careful not to make a move as they watched the action unfold before them.

"What are they doing?" Sam whispered.

"Shh," Dean said, placing his hand over Sam's mouth. "I'll tell you later."

As they watched, the bucks suddenly charged at each other, head down and antlers out as they battled for dominance over the area, and any does that might be in the area.

For the boys, especially Sam, the sight was the most awesome thing they had ever seen. Nature at its finest, as two kings of the forest battled it out for the ultimate power.

For Caleb, the chance for the boys to experience something so powerful, was incomparable. The beauty of nature, and it was right in their own backyard.

Suddenly, though, the scene changed. One moment the bucks were ferociously fighting for power, and the next, they were scattering, apparently hearing something unheard by the silent observers watching them.

"What was that?" Dean asked, voicing the same confusion that Caleb and his brother were feeling.

"I don't know," Caleb said, feeling his heart race as he reached for his gun. "Stay close, both of you."

Sam and Dean both nodded, as they fell deathly silent, afraid of making any sudden movements for whatever had scared the bucks away, could be watching _them. _

"What is it?" Sam asked, clinging tightly to Dean's side.

"I don't know yet," Caleb said, "let's head back."

Not willing to risk the boy's safety, Caleb thought it would be smart not to tempt fate, and instead retreat to safety in case anything was stalking them.

As they hurried back from where they had come, Caleb kept his eyes and ears peeled for any sign of the mysterious creature that had scared the deer away.

"We're almost there," Dean said, feeling Sam shake against his side.

"I'm fine," Dean said.

"Hurry," Caleb urged, hearing quick footsteps behind them. "Let's go."

Feeling his own heart race, Dean grabbed his brother's hand and started out at a quick run, with Caleb not far behind them as they moved lithely around the different trees and shrubbery, anxious to get back to their car.

"What is it?" Sam shouted, looking back at his guardian in a wide-eyed fear.

"I don't know-"

At that moment, the creature grabbed him.

From what little Dean could see, since the creature had kept itself well—concealed, it was all claws and power. The talons the creature had, were nothing that Dean had ever seen before, and he had used those to grab Caleb.

"Caleb!" Dean yelled, fear gripping his heart.

"Where is he?" Sam asked, his voice trembling.

"Something grabbed him," Dean said, his hazel eyes darting everywhere, trying to see the creature again, and hopefully get a visual on their lost guardian.

"No," Sam said, true fear showing in his eyes, as he tugged on Dean's hand. "Let's get out of here, Dean. We need to go find someone to help."

"I know, I know," Dean said distractedly, as he considered his options. The last thing he felt like doing was leaving Caleb, but also knew that there was little he could do without the backup of Jim or Bobby.

"Dean, let's go," Sam urged. "I'm scared, come on. Let's get back to the car or something, or find someone to help."

"Okay," Dean finally agreed, tears quickly welling in his eyes at the thought of leaving Caleb behind, but also knowing they didn't have a choice. "Let's get there first."

Luckily, they weren't far from the car or the wildlife office that was stationed directly on the outskirts of the forest.

"Let's go in here," Dean said, as he directed Sam into the front office.

They needed to use a phone in order to call Jim and let him know where they were, and what had happened. The office was empty except for the lone ranger who was chomping on some gum while reading a magazine.

"Can I help you boys with anything?" the ranger asked, finally looking up from his reading material.

"Yes," Dean said, leaning over to catch his breath. "We need to use your phone."

For the first time, the ranger seemed to take a close look at the two boys in his office; took in their sweat-dripped faces, and terrified expressions. It wasn't unusual to see family's in the woods on a camping trip, but something was different about these two.

"Are you boys alright?"

"No-" Sam started to say, but was quickly cut off by Dean.

"Sam," Dean said quietly, shaking his head. "Please, can we just use your phone? We're okay, we just need to use your phone."

The ranger took another good, intense look at the pair before nodding. "Okay." Handing them the phone, he hung back, clearly wanting to listen in to the conversation that was about to take place.

"Can you give us a minute?" Dean asked pointedly.

Holding his hands up in a placating motion, the ranger stepped back enough to give them privacy, but also not leaving the room, either.

Fingers shaking, Dean dialed the number of home. It was a Saturday, Jim would most likely be home unless the Church called him in for some emergency.

Waiting for someone to answer, was torturous for Dean, who couldn't entirely escape from under the scrutinizing look the ranger gave him, as he turned from him.

_Hello? _

"Jim?" Dean said, nearly sagging against the counter in relief. "We have a problem."

_Where are you? _

"At the Ranger's station near the woods, you know?"

_I know where that is. What's wrong? Where's Caleb?_

Dean shook his head, trying to hold back the tears of fear for his guardian, and the fear that something serious had happened to him. "Something got him."

_Did you see what?_

"No. All I saw were claws, and that's it."

_You don't know how tall or short?_

"No."

At that point, Dean nearly gave himself over to the tears, as they cascaded down his face in full-force. Clenching his teeth, he tried to regain control of his emotions, as he brought his fist up to his mouth, closing his eyes against the pain he felt.

Any number of things could be happening to Caleb, but thinking those thoughts wasn't helpful in trying to remain calm through this nightmare.

_I'll be right there._


	11. Chapter 11

Waiting for Jim was absolutely torturous for Dean. Between images of what could be happening to Caleb—which were positively horrific on their own—and imaging what could have taken him, it all contributed to the intense nausea he felt as he took a seat on one of the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area.

Sam, perhaps sensing how devastated his brother was, wisely chose not to say much as he stuck like glue to his side. Occasionally, Dean would hear him sniffle or whimper, but Sam didn't say anything as he glanced habitually at the door, waiting for their guardian to arrive.

"Dean?" Sam asked, after a few minutes of silence.

"What?"

"When is Jim going to be here?"

It made Sam uncomfortable to be in an office full of grown-up strangers without someone they knew and trusted there, to protect them.

"As soon as he can," Dean said brokenly, as he leaned foreword to combat the nausea he had.

Dean had never seen something like the creature that had snatched Caleb. It's claws were enormous, and the way in which it had grabbed a full-grown man, had been the hardest thing for Dean to reconcile.

If a creature that big and that ferocious was able to overpower a strong hunter like Caleb, what could it possibly be doing to him right at that very moment?

If he wasn't already...

No, Dean _refused _to believe that; he refused to believe the worst possible outcome until he was staring it right in the face. Caleb had survived through having his wife and unborn child murdered, had survived his orientation into hunting, and more recently, had survived the hell and rigors of being trapped in a jail cell.

If he could survive through that, he could survive through anything. It was the only hope that Dean had, and it was the one thing that was keeping him sane as he rocked back and forth in the chair, ignoring the prying looks the ranger gave him off and on.

"I'm scared," Sam whispered, scooting as close as he could to his big brother without actually climbing into his lap. "That man keeps staring at us."

"He's a good guy," Dean reassured his brother, as he gave the ranger a withering look for scaring his little brother. "He wants to make sure we're okay."

"But we're _not-_"

"Sam," Dean said, flashing a quick smile at the ranger who had looked up when Sam had made that telling statement. "Listen, people, _regular _people, they don't need to know everything, okay? They don't need to know about any of this."

Sam nodded, thick little tears dropping down his cheeks, as he chomped adorably on his bottom lip the way he did when he was scared or nervous about something. "Okay. I'm sorry."

There was so much to remember about his new set of circumstances. Dean couldn't blame him. He had struggled with the same set of rules when he had first started training.

Normal people thought you were crazy. They would take he and his brother away from Caleb and Jim so fast that they wouldn't even have time to _blink. _

"It's okay," Dean said, "it's alright. You didn't know."

He wasn't in the mood to pick a fight with his brother. All he wanted was for Jim to get there, and take over the helm and find Caleb and bring him back.

Waiting for him, though, seemed like an eternity. Each time someone walked into the office, he fully expected it to be Jim, but was sorely disappointed when it wasn't.

"Dean," Sam said, after a minute. "What if that thing is hurting-"

"Stop," Dean whispered, looking down at his shaking, clasping hands, as a few stray tears fell down his face. "Don't talk like that, I'm begging you, don't."

"I was just-"

"I know, but _don't."_

It was bad enough having those images of Caleb being tortured, being hurt or _worse_, without Sam verbalizing what he was feeling. It was bad enough being in his own head without Sam contributing to those sickening thoughts.

"Okay."

Sam fell silent as he stared anxiously out the window, waiting for Jim to walk through those doors and take over the rescue mission.

"Are you boys okay?" the ranger asked, "is someone coming for you?"

"Yes," Dean said with a moan, as he rubbed his forehead, trying to get rid of the searing headache he had, that wasn't at all helpful to the nausea that he was feeling.

"Okay. Do you want anything to drink? Some water?"

"No," Dean said, as he held up his water bottle. "We got one."

"Okay."

Glancing up at the teddy bear themed clock hanging behind the counter, he saw that it was nearing five in the afternoon. The sun would be setting in a few hours, and Caleb would be out there. Either he was still with the creature and the creature was hurting him, or he had managed to get away and was lying somewhere injured.

Either way, the fact that Caleb hadn't found them yet, was deeply troubling for Dean, who was always used to them finding each other right away when they got separated.

This was all new territory for him, who was always used to getting out of close calls relatively unscathed. Having Caleb missing and probably hurt, was terrifying for Dean. They had never talked about what would happen if they got separated from each other, with both of them assuming that it would never happen.

Now it had.

And Dean had reacted on instinct: get himself and Sam out of the area, and to safety, and that was what he had done by going into the ranger station and calling Jim.

Even though it had torn him in two to make the decision to leave Caleb when any number of things could be happening to him, it was the right call, and the one that Caleb would have told him to take if he had been there.

Now, though, Dean was second—guessing himself, as more and more time passed without any indication of what had happened, or where he was.

When the front doors opened again, and Jim walked in, Dean nearly cried in relief as he lunged himself off the hard, metal chair and over to Jim, with Sam following closely behind.

"Finally," Dean said, shaking his head in disbelief at the amount of relief he felt at having someone take over, to have someone who he knew had his and his brother's best interests at heart.

"I'm sorry it took so long," Jim apologized, as he gave a trembling Sam a hug. "I had to fight some traffic on the way here."

"It's fine," Dean said, as he brushed some of his stray tears away from his face. "I'm just glad you're here now."

Boy, was he ever.

It had been getting too heavy dealing with Sam's questions, and the prying looks from the ranger by himself.

"Are you with them?" the ranger asked, as he came out from behind the desk to meet with Jim.

"Yes."

"I'm Ranger Jefferson," he introduced himself, as he shook Jim's hand. "You know, kids really shouldn't be hiking alone out in these woods."

Dean shook his head in annoyance, as though his family would _ever _let him or his brother hike by themselves at the ages they were at.

"They weren't," Jim said, adopting the kind of tone in his voice that let Dean knew he wasn't too crazy about this guy's assumptions, either. "They were with a friend of mine."

"What happened to him?" the ranger asked, turning his attention back to Dean.

"Something grabbed him," Dean said. "I don't know what."

"You didn't see _anything_?" the ranger pressed.

"Yeah," Dean said, as he turned red-rimmed eyes on the pushy guy. "I _did_," he said, as he sniffled back tears. "I saw something with _claws _grab him and now it's doing who knows _what _to him."

For the first time, the ranger looked truly afraid as he faced the small family in front of him.

"What is it?" Jim pressed, seeing the man's worried expression.

"It's just-"

"It's just _what?_," Dean demanded, not in the mood for games.

"Over the last few weeks," the ranger said, as he leaned against the counter, "we've had hikers—small family's, disappear from the area. A few days later, we found them. But they were all torn into _pieces_. In fact, we've tried to get this stretch of woods closed off to tourists for weeks, but we haven't gotten the right permits yet."

"Excuse me," Dean said, as he roughly shoved past the ranger and made a mad dash to the bathroom where he ran into the nearest stall, and promptly threw up.

That had been the _last _thing he needed to hear right at that very moment, that hikers that disappeared in that area, turned up days later ripped to pieces.

As he tried to control his stomach, violent sobs ripped through his body as he looked down at his shaking hands as they grasped the toilet. Dry—heaving into the toilet, he reached over for some toilet paper to wipe his face off with.

Even though brutal thoughts of what Caleb might be going through, had entered his head more than once since their ordeal had begun, he had never seriously entertained the thought of what might be happening to him, and what condition he would be in when they found him.

The ranger had brought all of that to the forefront of Dean's mind with his careless descriptions of how the other victims had been found.

"Dean?"

It was Jim, no doubt coming to see where he had disappeared to in such a hurry.

"Y-yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," Dean replied.

"Can you come out?"

Not sure he trusted himself to stand just yet, he gave it a try as he shakily stood and unlocked the bolt on the stall door, and brushed past Jim to go over to the sinks.

As he bowed his head to wash his hands, he used some more paper towel to wipe the last of the throw up off his face.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

In how many ways could he answer no? If it wasn't Caleb in jail, it was him being attacked and carried off by some mysterious creature. When would the hits stop coming?

"No," Dean said.

He desperately didn't want to have a heart-to-heart conversation with him, but he knew he probably wouldn't be able to get around it this time, especially with how urgent their situation was, and what Dean and Sam had seen out there.

"We're going to find him, Dean," Jim said. "I promise."

"When?" Dean said, as more tears fell down his face. "Before or after that _thing _rips him to _pieces_?"

"Dean-"

"You heard that douche," Dean said miserably. "People disappear, they come back in pieces."

"But," Jim reminded him, as he turned Dean around to face him. "They didn't know what we know, okay? They weren't such good fighters like Caleb is."

"I have these images in my head," Dean said, as he completely crumbled, "and I can't shut them _up_. I have images of that _thing _doing horrible things to him, and I can't stop it from happening."

"Dean, we're going to find him."

"When? It's getting dark out now, and the longer he's out there, the more chance that monster has of killing him."

Jim shook his head, trying to find another way of getting through to the fractured twelve-year-old. "Right now, we're going to go home-"

"No," Dean said, shaking his head. "I'm not leaving until we find him."

"Dean," Jim said gently, "there's nothing we can do until the morning. And in the meantime, the ranger is going to put together a search party for him."

"What are _they _going to be able to do?" Dean asked incredulously. "Nothing. Not if it's something supernatural."

Jim knew how Dean felt, knew how frustrating and helpless he felt, but he also knew that there was nothing they could do with night fast approaching, and the limited amount of light they would have as a result.

"Would it make you feel better," Jim suggested, "if I take you and Sam home and I come back here for a little while to oversee the search?"

Dean knew he had no choice, knew that if Jim really decided to push it, he could and he would have no choice but to go along with what he wanted, but he just couldn't see leaving Caleb out there all night long.

"I guess," he finally said.

"Sammy needs some rest," Jim said. "You can make sure he's okay, and I'll come back out for another hour or so until the team gives up for the night."

"Do they have guys out there right now?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly. "If I drop you guys off at home, I can grab some weapons from our stash, and come back out for a little while."

Dean nodded. "Okay, yeah."

It was the best of both worlds. If he went home and took care of Sam for an hour or two, it would give Jim the chance to grab some of their weapons, and head back out to look along with the other searchers.

* * *

In spite of himself, Dean was relieved to be back in the comfort and safety of his home. At home, he felt a measure of control in the situation, as he followed Jim around and watched as he packed the things he would need to go out in the woods at night.

"Be careful," Dean said, as he watched him carefully. "If anything happens to you, too..."

He wouldn't be able to handle it. He and Sam would be well and truly alone, then. Bobby lived hours away in Sioux Falls, and the only help they had was a batty old neighbor who had a fondness for rifles.

"Nothing will," Jim assured him, as he laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "And the same goes for you, too. Be careful here."

"We will be," Dean reassured him. "Just don't get yourself ripped to pieces, please," he said faintly.

"I won't," Jim said, as he hitched the bag of supplies over his shoulder. "Salt the windows and doors, alright?"

"Yeah," Dean said, "I will."

There was no way he would risk something _else _coming and finding them.

"Alright. I'll be back."

"Okay."

Giving Dean another hug, and leaning down to give Sam a kiss, the two brothers watched as Jim gave them one last look, before heading out the door and back out to try to bring Caleb back to them.

"When will he be back?" Sam asked, a few minutes later.

"In about an hour," Dean replied, as he meticulously laid down a protective line of salt over the doors and windows in the bottom level of their house.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked curiously, as he watched his brother move around the room with the bag of salt in his hand.

"Salting the doors and windows," Dean said, as he began to head upstairs.

"Why?" Sam asked, as he watched his brother head into his room first.

"Salt repels most spirits."

"What about demons?"

Dean kicked aside a rug that had been in Sam's room since he was a baby. "Devil's Trap. It traps the demons, they cant' get out. There's one in both of our rooms, and some in every room of the house."

"Awesome!"

"Yeah, I know. So we're pretty well covered in that area."

At least there was one thing he _didn't _have to worry about.

"Now what?" Sam asked, after Dean had finished salting everything.

"Now we just go back downstairs, I guess. Unless you want to go to bed or something."

"No."

"Alright. Just make sure you don't touch the salt, okay?"

"I promise."

"Scout's Honor?"

Sam nodded solemnly. "Scout's Honor."

* * *

It had happened so fast. One second Caleb had been running toward the safety of the car with the boys, and the next second, the creature, whatever it was, had reached out and snatched him with its talon—like claws.

Now he had a dislocated shoulder to go along with the deep bruises and gashes that he had sustained while the creature had been dragging him. Eventually, the pain had won and he had mercifully lost consciousness.

Now, he was fully aware.

From what he could tell, the monster had placed him in some cave in the forest. He couldn't make out anything except for the _drip drip drip _sounds of water dripping somewhere, and a low moan from somewhere next to him.

Looking around in the pitch darkness, he could dimly make out another figure tied beside him.

"Hey," he said, wincing in pain when a sudden movement he made, jarred his already excruciatingly painful shoulder. "Is someone there?"

"Yes," a woman's voice said.

From his estimation, she sounded about twenty or twenty—one.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Hell no. That son of a bitch did something to my shoulder."

And his hands had been tied above his head, only further enhancing the injury to his shoulder due to the pressure it was being put under.

"Oh, great," the girl said.

"This may not," Caleb said with a low moan, "make you feel any better, but I'm actually someone who could help you."

The girl gave a mirthless laugh. "Oh, _great_. Well, fantastic rescue operation."

"Well, I didn't even know this thing existed until it grabbed me."

A clatter from the other side of the cave, instantly halted their conversation as he twisted his body around as much as he could to get a good look at whatever was coming their way.

"It's coming!" she yelled, completely losing all reason as she squirmed and fought the ropes that were binding her in much the same way they were binding Caleb.

"Be quiet!" Caleb hissed, his heart pulsating painfully as he tried to get a look at the shadow on the wall that only illuminated the creature in its worst form.

It was over eleven feet fall; all power and claws as it growled something unintelligible to the humans inside the cave.

"Leave me alone," the girl pleaded. "Please!"

However, the monster ignored her.

"Take me!" Caleb yelled. "Take me, you son of a bitch. I'm a hell of a lot meatier!"

The monster was intent on its meal, and took her. Caleb tried to ignore the sickening, stomach-turning sounds of the woman's screams, as the monster killed her. To do what with her, he didn't know, but he was sure he didn't _want _to know either.

His only thought was for the boys.

Had they gotten to safety?

Had Dean gotten them somewhere safe and gotten in touch with Jim?

He had to believe they had. It was his only source of mental relief, knowing that the boys would be far from this nightmare.

* * *

**One again, your response to this story has completely blown me away. I am forever grateful to the amount of encouragement and support I have gotten. Either in the form of the reviews that make my day, or the alerts/favorites that illicit giggles from me, I am so eternally grateful. **

**These guys-Caleb and Jim, and the two fantastic boys they have raised, have completely gripped me and I (hope) that you feel some of the same love for these guys as I do. **

**Even though I wouldn't trade the writing process for all the candy in the world, you guys make it THAT much sweeter. So thank you from the bottom of my Supernatural writing heart!**

**On a more solemn note: **

**I already have (if you can believe it) some ideas for the next full-length story in this verse after this is completed, and I am literally going to dread telling you this, much less writing it! But a character will die in the next story. **

**I am not saying who for obvious reasons. Or how. But it is a character that you know, and that's all I'm going to say. **

**But just because this character dies, that does NOT mean you will not see this character again. It's Supernatural, after all! **

**So I hope you keep hanging in there with me. **


	12. Chapter 12

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Jim had surprised the ranger and his team of volunteers when he had suddenly appeared in their office again. The sun had set about an hour before that, and Jim was eager to get in a good hour of searching before calling it a night.

He knew that neither he _or _the boys would sleep well that night if they knew Caleb was still out there with that creature. Injured or unable to defend himself. It was an extremely dangerous situation, and one that Jim wasn't too crazy about involving innocent civilians in, but he also realized that his hands were tied as far as that was concerned.

"I came here to offer my services," Jim replied coolly, as he jiggled the bag of weaponry he had brought along with him.

With a creature that was still unknown, he hadn't taken any chances, and had packed an arsenal to defend himself and anyone that dared to come along with him in those harsh woods.

"Aren't you the pastor here?" the ranger asked.

"I am."

"So why are you carting around a bag of ammunition?"

"I just want to find my friend," Jim said, as he slammed the bag down on the front counter. "And I came prepared for anything."

"Well, our guys are seasoned professionals," the ranger said. "They can handle themselves out there."

"Not when something is chewing apart victims by the minute," Jim said, "and we can't waste time arguing about this. I'm going, that's my friend out there."

The ranger looked slightly miffed that he was being challenged, but wisely chose not argue when he saw that the elder hunter wasn't about to back down.

It was his suicide mission, he figured, as he suited up, strapping a rifle to his waist as he assembled the team of men at his disposal.

"Alright, men," he said, as he turned to face them. "This monster—_animal_," he corrected himself with a shake, "has taken another victim. A young man. We need to find him before the animal has a chance to hurt him like its done the others."

Jim noticed that he wouldn't directly say the word "killed" out of deference for him and what he was going through in having someone that was akin to family out there.

"We should split up," Jim said, "cover more ground-"

"And let the thing pick us off one by one?" one of the volunteers asked skeptically.

"We split up," Jim said, as if there had been no interruption. "We cover more ground."

The ranger shook his head in mild annoyance that _his _rescue operation was being hijacked, but quickly recovered once he realized the strategy behind the suggestion.

"We split up in twos, have a partner with you always," the ranger said. "You spot the creature, you shoot to kill."

Making sure his team each had a weapon to defend themselves with, the ranger, along with Jim and the small group of volunteers, set out. The station was situated directly on the outskirts of the forest, giving them a major head start on finding Caleb.

As Jim stepped through the rough terrain and over the precariously low hanging branches that were hard to spot in the dark, he shone his flashlight on anything and everything that might look like it could hide a creature and his injured friend, but if this creature was believed to be supernatural like he thought, the monster would make it darn near impossible to be found.

"We stop at ten," the ranger informed his group. "In the meantime, be diligent and look for any clues."

Jim barely listened—he had his own pattern he was following, had his own set of rules that were far removed from the ones the ranger had laid out for them.

Pausing in his stride, he leaned down to inspect a sliver of something that the moonlight illuminated. Feeling his heart sink when his finger brought back a small amount of blood, he stood up deliberately, and began to follow the tentative trail that had been laid down for him.

"Where are you going?" the ranger called, looking over and seeing Jim begin to wander away from the group, and deeper off the path they had been navigating on.

"Found something," Jim called back, still on the move. "Just stay there."

If this was a monster, there was no way he wanted any of those people near it. Not that it would be that easy to convince them to turn back once they had already started, but he would do his best.

"No way. We're going," the ranger said, as he and his group caught up to him.

"It's too dangerous," Jim argued calmly, used to this tactic by now after having raised two boys for the past seven years. "I know my way around these things, and I know my way around these woods."

It wasn't the first time he had found himself trekking through wooded and forested areas at night. His tracking skills were especially sharp, then and he knew that he would probably be able to move faster without the constraints of having to protect innocent civilians from this thing.

"You need the backup!" one of the volunteers shouted. "This thing has killed five people already-"

"And if you don't get off your high horse and calm down, it might kill _you_," Jim said. "Each minute we spend arguing about this, this thing might kill my friend, so we all need to shut up and do what's best for _him." _

And he was certain that meant going this alone. Caleb was too smart to be railroaded by a regular bear or other forest creature. It had be something monstrous, something highly intelligent.

"We have an obligation to protect you," the ranger said, after a second, "and I have an obligation to find your friend-"

Whatever he had been about to say, was cut off when the same pair of talons that Dean had so clearly described, reached out and grabbed the ranger.

His screams of utter horror and pain, were the only guiding light that Jim and the other had as they zigzagged through the harsh terrain, hoping to find their lost guide before it was too late.

"Ranger!" Jim yelled, his eyes scanning the area frantically, hoping to find the lost man before the creature did something to him.

"Ranger!" the other volunteers called. "He's gone. That thing grabbed him-"

"You see what I mean?" Jim said, turning back to face them. "I told you all to turn back before something like this happened. Now we have to find him, if he's not already dead, and my friend."

The night couldn't have gone worse if it had tried, and each second they spent searching for the lost ranger, the longer it would take to find his injured friend.

The drops of blood on the ground, had scared him deeply. It was fresh, and that meant that whatever had grabbed Caleb, had been strong enough to drag him through those woods, leaving him scarred, bloody and hurt.

"Well, what do we do now?"

"We find him, if we can," Jim said, shaking his head in disbelief. "And then you _all _are going back to safety."

No one argued with that plan.

What had happened to the ranger, had scared them all to their wits. Jim just wished that it didn't have to take the monster grabbing another person, for them to realize that it was too dangerous out there for them.

"How do you track so well?" One of the volunteers asked.

"Years and years of practice," Jim replied.

It was almost a prerequisite to hunting. If you wanted to become a good hunter, you had to learn how to track in order to find the various supernatural creatures that wanted to hide from you.

"Wow-" the woman's awe at Jim's expertise, quickly switched to a scream of horror and a _thud, _signaling she had fallen over something—or _someone_.

"What is it?" Jim said, as he and the others quickly converged around her.

Scrambling away from the body in front of her, she covered her mouth in poorly disguised terror. It was their ranger. His shirt was slashed, exposing the mess of blood and bones that his body had become in the space of only a few minutes.

"Alright," Jim said, as he addressed the group. "The station is only a few miles from here. Can you make it?"

They all nodded in synchronization as they silently walked back from the way they had come earlier that night.

Jim felt bad at leaving them alone in this mess, but he knew the creature wouldn't head for them now. Not after it had just devoured a full-grown man.

Not wanting to give up quite yet, he kept his gun at the ready as he picked his way through more of the overgrown terrain, as he wandered deeper and deeper into the forest.

If he was going to find anything, he knew the creature would want to keep it well—concealed from the regular, human eye. What it hadn't counted on, was the trained eye that Jim had developed over a period of time of hunting.

Spotting an outcropping of rocks that looked like it doubled as an overgrown cave, complete with a small entrance, he walked toward it, his heart hammering in his chest as he fingered the smooth trigger under his finger.

Inside the cave, the smell that assaulted his senses, nearly had him turning back. Human decomposition, and lots of it. Determined to press on, he inhaled a deep breath and tried to bare it.

A small cough alerted him to a dark corner in the cave. One that would have gone unnoticed by him if he hadn't been looking directly at it.

"Caleb."

Relief flooded through his veins as he finally locked eyes with his friend.

"Finally," Caleb said, with a groan. "That son of a _bitch_."

"Are you alright?" Jim asked, as he got out his hunting knife to cut him down.

"Mostly. Be careful," Caleb added, when he saw what Jim was about to do. "My shoulder—it's hurt."

"Alright."

Careful to keep the pressure off his shoulder, Jim quickly cut the ropes that had bound Caleb's hands over his head, and gently lowered him the the ground.

"I know what it is."

"I do, too."

"Are the boys-"

"They're fine."

"Good," Caleb said, as he swallowed convulsively. "I need you to," he closed his eyes against the pain, "pop my shoulder back in place."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I won't be able to do anything without it."

"Okay. "

Firmly placing his hands in the appropriate positions on Caleb's shoulder, Jim waited a beat before roughly pushing it back in place.

The low hiss of pain from his friend, was the only indication he had that it had gone right. Wiping his hand across his brow, he helped Caleb stand.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"No, just some cuts and bruises."

"Do you have a flare gun?"

Caleb shook his head. "Do you?"

"Yeah," Jim said, as he passed one over to him. "That's the only thing that will kill these things."

"You bet."

Some creatures responded to salt and iron. Some responded to electric shock. Others, like the wendigo, only responded to fire.

A flare gun was the only immediate weapon they had at their disposal.

As they began their precarious walk out of the cave, both men kept their eyes and ears peeled for any sign of the cannibalistic creature.

"So what happened after it grabbed you?" Jim asked.

"It dragged me, and then strung me up like I was a turkey or something, and then fed on someone right next to me."

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't the most pleasant thing to hear-"

Whatever he had been about to say, was cut off suddenly when the creature reappeared. Angry that its victim had gotten away, it gave chase as the two men ran headlong through the forest, guns in hand as they readied them for use.

Feeling it close in, Caleb spun around and pressed down on the trigger. It was a clean shot to the head, the only one besides the heart, that truly mattered.

As the thing collapsed at his feet, he breathed a sigh of tired relief as he and Jim made the short walk back to the station and their car.


	13. Chapter 13

The drive home was a painful one. Each movement the car made along the bumpy roads, only served to jolt Caleb's already painful shoulder, as he clenched his teeth to keep out the moan of pain he felt like emitting.

It had been a long day full of adventure, fear and trauma, having to watch a young girl get eaten alive by the Wendigo, having to survive being dragged through the forest before he lost consciousness, have his shoulder dislocated.

He would be glad to get home and be able to properly assess the wounds, and hopefully be able to sleep. From what he could tell, he had a gash on his shoulder blade that needed attention, and some minor, superficial cuts and bruises to his chest and stomach area.

"You're bleeding," Jim noted, as he made a swift turn onto their quiet little neighborhood.

"Yeah," Caleb nodded, leaning his head back against the seat. "I have to take care of it when we get inside."

Thankfully, that wouldn't be too much longer. Within seconds, Jim was pulling into their cluttered garage, and Caleb had the opportunity, for the first time in hours, to get a glimpse of home and all of the security that it offered.

As they walked into the dimly lit kitchen, Caleb immediately chose a seat at the counter, where he would be provided with the most light from the overhead one that was situated directly above it.

"Where are the boys?"

From what he knew, Dean had managed to get himself and Sam to safety, but that was all he knew.

"Probably upstairs. I'll go get 'em."

"Okay."

While he waited, Caleb used his one good arm to grab the med kit from the shelf next to the pantry, and slapped it down next to him on the counter. It wouldn't be fun stitching himself, but it had to be done, for sure.

The kind of wound he had, was deep enough to require three or four of them at least.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, as he came into the kitchen.

"Yeah, bud, I'm okay," Caleb assured him, barely hiding a wince of pain when he made an abrupt movement with his bad shoulder. "Just a little banged up."

"Yeah, I can see that. What took you?" Dean asked, as he settled himself next to his guardian.

"Wendigo."

"A what?"

Dean had heard of many different kinds of monsters, but Wendigos were a new one.

"A Wendigo," Caleb said. "They were once human, but when they were forced to consume human flesh, they shifted into what they are now."

"A cannibalistic monster?" Dean supplied bluntly.

"Yeah," Caleb said, with a smile. "You can say that. They're native to this area and Michigan, which is why I should have picked up the pattern before any of this happened."

From what Jim had told Caleb on the drive back home, the monster had been responsible for many different deaths in the area. Either the officials had kept it well covered-up, or Caleb hadn't been looking hard enough when he perused the papers to look for cases.

Either one was just as likely as the next.

"So what happened to _you_?" Dean asked quietly, as he watched Caleb carefully, and with difficulty, take his shirt off to expose more of the injury to stitch up.

"I got banged up by that evil son of a bitch. It dislocated my shoulder, and now I have to take care of this," he said, motioning to his injury.

"Oh, wow," Dean said. "Is your shoulder okay now?"

"It's painful, but it will be better tomorrow. I have an idea," he said, looking at Dean. "Something that will advance you a little in your training."

"What?" Dean asked, torn between curiosity and nervousness.

"You're going to stitch me up."

No matter what Dean had been expecting, it wasn't that.

"Um..."

"It's okay," Caleb said, looking at him as though he had all the confidence in him in the world. "You can do this. You need to learn how to do this in case you _really _have to do it in the future."

Dean knew he had to learn the medical side of hunting, where it involved stitching or dressing a wound, but he never thought he would get his first lesson _this _way.

Stitching Caleb up when he was _really _hurt, was just a little bit outside his comfort zone. What if he accidentally worsened the injury? What if he was shaking too much and lodged the needle inside someplace?

All of those thoughts ran through his head on a loop, as he shook his head.

"I don't think-"

"Dean," Caleb said, "you can do this," he said, as he looked him in the eye. "I wouldn't ask you to do this if I had _any _doubts. Give it a shot."

"On your wound?"

"Yes."

Trying to control the frantic stuttering of his own heart, Dean nodded. "Okay, what do I do?"

"I'll talk you through the whole thing," Caleb said calmly.

"Okay."

"Alright, what's the _first _thing you do?"

"Put on gloves."

"Yeah. Use the blue gloves, they're more sterile."

Caleb watched as Dean snapped on the emergency-grade medical gloves

"Okay," Dean said, some of his previous training kicking into action, even though it had all been purely hypothetical then. "Now I use the alcohol, right?"

"Right. Grab two or three of those cotton balls, and dab the wound with them."

Caleb watched as Dean carefully used one of the cotton balls, dipped it in the alcohol and carefully used it to dab part of his wound, before using the other two cotton balls to clean the rest.

"Okay," Dean said. "Now what do I do?"

"Now," Caleb said, "you see that curved needle right there?"

Dean nodded as he picked up the curved needle that was lying on its side in the med kit. "Yeah."

"Now thread the string through the curved end of it."

Dean obeyed as he shakily threaded the string through the needle. "Now what?"

"Now you carefully use that to pull the skin folds together."

Dean nodded, as he did what Caleb told him to do. "Okay."

"Good job," Caleb said, watching what he could, even though he couldn't see much from the angle he was holding his head so Dean could work easier.

"Thanks."

"Now grab that gauze pad over there, and slap it on."

"Okay," Dean said, once he was finished."

"See?" Caleb said, as he gave him a careful hug with his one good arm. "I told you you could do it."

"Thanks."


	14. Chapter 14

Sleeping would be interesting that night. Caleb was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep on his side like he normally would have preferred, due to the position of his injury, and where the bulky gauze pad was laid.

Grateful just to be able to sleep at all, Caleb settled for lying on his back. Though, sleep was on the forefront of his mind, his body had other plans as his shoulder twinged uncomfortably, a product of having it dislocated and then popped back into place.

The pain pills he had taken, had made a small dent but not enough to do anything significant in the long run. Sighing as he ran a hand over his face, Caleb reached over for his remote control and switched on the TV.

At least he would have some form of entertainment while he waited for the rain man to come and take him away for a few hours.

Vaguely paying attention to some badly scripted comedy movie, he tried to close his eyes and relax, but couldn't. He supposed it was leftover adrenaline from the action that had happened today, or just residue excitement from the unexpected job he had stumbled upon.

When a tiny knock on the door, brought his attention from his insomnia, he gladly welcomed it. "Yeah," he said, by way of invitation.

Not to his surprise, two little heads peeked around the corner. He had seen Dean when he had first gotten home, and had given him his first foray into learning how to stitch and dress a wound.

But he hadn't seen Sam when he had first gotten home. Apparently he had fallen asleep waiting for Caleb to return home, but he was glad to see him now.

"Hi," Sam said, "we couldn't sleep."

"_You _couldn't sleep," Dean corrected him with a scoff. "And then _someone _wandered into my room and asked if I was asleep or not."

Caleb couldn't help the laugh that came out at that. It was so typical of brothers, especially these two brothers. They loved to bug and tease each other, but at the end of the day, they loved one another and Caleb loved seeing that bond through better or worse.

"Well, you _weren't_," Sam said defensively.

"Anyway," Dean said, "we heard your TV on in here."

"Yeah," Caleb said, as he moved aside the covers to make more room for them to climb on. "I couldn't sleep, either. Too much excitement today, I think."

"Yeah," Dean said with a groan, as he laid back against Caleb's soft pillows. "Definitely."

"So what about you, Sam," Caleb said, "what did you think about everything that happened today?"

It had to have been terrifying for a kid who had never had such an experience with a supernatural being before. At least Dean partially knew what they were up against, but Sam had been completely in the dark, and all he knew was that his guardian had been taken from them.

"I was scared," Sam admitted, "but then Dean got us to that ranger's station."

"Did you?" Caleb asked, as he looked over at the twelve-year-old next to him.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I wanted to stay out there _so _bad, but I knew I couldn't," he said quietly.

"You wanted to get your brother to safety."

"Yeah."

"You know," Caleb said, shaking his head at the irony of it. "I hate that Sam had to go through it, but I'm glad he was with us, because if hadn't been there, you would have tried to find me, right?"

Dean shrugged. "Probably."

If he hadn't been so concerned about making sure his little brother was safe, he probably _would _would have stayed out there, searching for his lost guardian and putting himself in very serious danger.

"And that thing would have gotten you."

"I know."

But somehow that didn't matter as much to Dean when it was someone he loved out there, in the line of fire, and in danger. And to a certain extent, the deep bond he shared with Caleb and Jim, especially Caleb, blinded him to certain dangers and he recognized that.

"What thing grabbed you?" Sam asked.

"A Wendigo," Caleb said. "Careful," he said softly, when Sam was about to use his chest as a pillow.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, just scootch over to the other side."

Sam obeyed, before resuming the position that he wanted. "Okay, so what's a Wen...digo?" he said slowly, trying the word out for himself.

"It's _nasty_," Caleb said. "They were once human, but over time they were forced to consume human flesh, and that changed them into what they are now."

Sam looked faintly horrified by that piece of information, but swallowed it down as his sharp brain searched for more knowledge on that monstrous creature that had ruined their afternoon.

"Why do they live here?"

"I don't know—they just do. They're native to here and Michigan."

"Oh. I'm—I'm glad you're okay. Are you?" Sam asked, after a pause, as if wanting to make sure that he really _was _okay.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just a little banged up. I had to have some stitches."

"You did?" Sam asked, his mouth popping open. "Did they hurt?"

"No, not really. And guess what?"

"What?"

"Your brother did them."

"Really?"

Caleb nodded, as he moved his shirt up far enough so Sam could see the stitches and the gauze that Dean had put on for him. "He did a good job."

"Yeah, even though I was _freaking _out," Dean said, shaking his head in amusement. "It was awful."

He had been terrified of hurting Caleb and making the injury worse than it already was, but Caleb had clearly known more about what he was talking about than Dean had himself, because he was able to put the stitches in perfectly.

"But you did it," Caleb pointed out. "I knew you could."

"Yeah," Sam said, "you think Caleb would let you _near _a cut like that with a needle if you weren't ready?"

Dean shook his head. "No, but I was shaking so hard."

"Yeah, but you managed to keep it under control," Caleb said, "so that's the most important thing."

"When are we going to train next?" Sam asked, as he pulled the blankets over him, already feeling sleepy now that their talk was almost over.

"I don't know," Caleb said, "I have to get this shoulder feeling better first. I can't do much without it."

Being limited in how much he could move his shoulder, was hard, especially when he had just started training Sam, and teaching Dean some more advanced maneuvers.

"Okay."

"If you guys want," Caleb said, motioning over to the cabinet underneath his TV. "You can put on a movie, and we can watch it."

"Pull an all nighter?" Dean asked, with a smirk, as he got down on the floor and started sorting through the impressive collection of movies they had.

"No, but we can try to sleep while we're watching it." 

"But how can we sleep while we're watching something?" Sam asked, struggling to follow along with Caleb's train of thought.

"We can fall asleep while we're watching it," Caleb said, rubbing his back. "Sometimes watching TV helps lull you to sleep."

"And don't worry," Dean added, as he rejoined Caleb and Sam on the bed. "It's _not _a Chuck Norris movie."

It turned out to be one of the many superhero movies that they had collected over the years. Even Sam was getting into it, even though Caleb could tell he was exhausted from staying up way past his bedtime.

"I talked to Bill," Caleb whispered to Dean, after Sam had fallen asleep.

"What did he say?" Dean whispered back, as he propped himself up on his elbow.

"He invited us there for a long weekend. He has some cases that he needs help cracking, and I told him we'd be game."

Dean smiled. "That's going to be awesome."

Caleb nodded. "It's been awhile, that's for sure."

The last time he had seen them, had been before his nightmare with Lexa Branch and her eventual murder, and the hell and trial that had followed after.

Those three months he had been stuck behind bars, Jim had managed to make the trip with Dean and Sam, but he hadn't had a chance to see their friends since his release a few months previously.

"Yeah," Dean said, as he subconsciously scooted closer to Caleb.

Even though the torment and agony he had experienced when Caleb had left, was behind him, it was still a touchy subject for him, and one that he didn't like revisiting.

"Bill said that Ellen was worried about me," Caleb said, as he turned the volume on the movie down.

"Yeah," Dean said, as he drew an invisible pattern with his finger, on Caleb's arm. "She was saying that she wanted to get her hands on you so she could force some meat on your bones."

"You know," Caleb said thoughtfully, "I never actually lost that much weight."

"You didn't?"

"No. The food was atrocious, but I choked it down every day and I managed it. And then sometimes I was able to get extra candy and stuff like that, when I could."

"Yeah. Well, I'm sure Ellen will make some more of her famous cooking when we get there to make up for it," Dean said, with a weak smile.

Ellen was a fantastic cook who loved making fabulous dishes when they came to visit. Dean always looked foreword to that part of the visit the most.

"You ready to go to sleep?" Caleb asked, as he straightened his pillows so they were lower down on the bed in order to be more comfortable.

"Yeah," Dean said, as he found some room between Caleb and Sam. "I'm exhausted."

"Me, too."


	15. Chapter 15

In order to make it to the Harvelles relatively early instead of spending all day on the road, Caleb and Jim determined the night before that they would get everything they needed to get together, the night before, and wake the boys up early in order to get on the road.

The plan was foolproof, and would save them hours of unnecessary hassles later on in the day. The problem would be to convince two notoriously late sleepers to go along with the plan.

Sam liked to chill out in the dark until midnight, while Dean was allowed to stay up later, and naturally fell asleep with a stomach full of soda and excitement after watching the latest horror flick.

As a result, he and Sam both woke up later. It would be a challenge convincing them to get the show on the road, and endure the tiredness until they could safely sleep in the car.

Needless to say, when their blaring alarms woke them up, even the _adults _were having problems adhering to their carefully thought out plan.

Rolling out of bed with a groan, Caleb made sure everything they needed for the road, was packed, and then set about making a quick breakfast of eggs and bacon for the boys when they would inevitably stumble down the stairs after Jim woke them up.

Caleb was excited in spite of himself. It had been awhile since he had last seen the Harvelle family, and it would be nice to get out of their town for a few days, and commiserate with their friends that were more like family than anything else.

The sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs, brought him out of his thoughts, as he looked up to see Sam and Dean enter the kitchen, both looking utterly exhausted, and as if they had just rolled out of bed, complete with bed hair and dull expressions.

"Morning," Caleb said, looking out the window at the sun that hadn't even risen yet. "Ready for some breakfast before we hit the road?"

Dean didn't answer, instead he only nodded as he accepted the plate Caleb out for him. He wasn't used to waking up this early, and was in a grouchy mood as a result.

"What time is it?" Sam asked, as he blearily looked out at the darkened window.

"About six," Caleb answered, as he got some snack food out of the pantry. "We'll have plenty of time to get to Bill and Ellen's this way."

"This early, though?" Dean asked, with a groan, apparently coming out of his self-imposed muteness, and instead deciding to shake himself free of his exhaustion.

"Well, we've never done it before," Jim said, as he came into the kitchen, already dressed for the road. "And we'll be able to get there earlier."

Neither of the boys seemed to share their enthusiasm for their plan, as they wolfed down the last remains of their breakfast, before going to pack their clothes and other essentials for the trip.

At eight and twelve, they didn't need much help in packing for themselves. Only some prodding and urging in the right direction when they would get sidetracked by something.

"Ready?" Caleb asked, once they had lumbered back down the stairs, bags hanging over their shoulders.

"I guess," Dean said, as he began to head out to the garage with their bags.

"Wait, Dean," Caleb said, as he waved Sam on.

"What?"

"I talked to your teacher yesterday."

"And?"

Dean would have no idea why his teacher would be calling the house. Usually he stayed well out of trouble in school, and he couldn't think of another reason why they would be calling.

"She said that you were supposed to turn in an English paper."

"Oh. Crap," Dean said, "I'm sorry."

Usually, he took his classes seriously and made sure to turn in his papers on time, but the hunt he and Caleb had done, had messed that up and he had completely forgotten about it by the time they returned home.

"It's alright. It was because of the hunt, right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"I asked, and she gave you an extension, but you need to have it back the next school day."

"Alright, thanks."

"So," Caleb said, as he handed him the paper, "on the way, you can start writing it."

Dean nodded as he took the paper, knowing it was completely fair. "I bet," Dean said, as a grin spread across his face, "that I'll be able to finish this by the time we make our first stop."

"I bet you won't," Caleb said, getting into it. "But if you _do_, I'll literally give you five bucks."

"You're on," Dean said, as he gave him a friendly shove.

Because he was supposed to write his paper, Dean made sure that he had his favorite studying music on hand for the session, as he plugged his headphones into his Walkman.

"Are you sure you can concentrate with that music blasting through your ears?" Jim asked, as he looked back at what Dean was doing.

"Yeah, It's actually better this way," Dean replied, as he got into a comfortable position in the backseat, making sure to anchor his neck in a way so that it wouldn't be sore for the duration of their trip.

"Alright, just make sure you're _actually _studying," Jim reminded him, as he made his first turn onto the highway that they would stay on for much of their journey.

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said, giggling. "Make sure you study."

"Shut up," Dean said with a grin, as he stretched out in his seat to start writing.

Once he got an idea of what he wanted his paper to be based on, the ideas flowed naturally, as the pen flew across the paper faster than his brain could catch up.

The paper was supposed to be based on something fictional that mimicked your real life. Dean could think of a thousand different ideas based on something fictional that mirrored something that happened in his real life.

Monsters.

Ghosts.

Parents dying by supernatural means.

Being raised in the hunting life despite his guardian's best efforts to shield him from that horrible existence.

By the time they reached their first stop, a Subway, for lunch, he had finished the paper. Except for the editing process that would come later, he proudly handed the paper to Caleb once they stepped out of the car.

"You actually did it," Caleb said, looking genuinely impressed. "Good job. Here," he said, handing him over five bucks. "You earned it."

"Thank you," Dean said, as he pocketed the money.

"Let's go eat."


	16. Chapter 16

As their drive toward Nebraska continued on, Dean found himself growing restless. They had stopped a few hours previously in order to allow the boys to stretch their legs, and grab some lunch, but now Dean was going slightly stir crazy as he stared out the window at the hundredth—or so it seemed—farm they had passed, and sighed.

Boredom was never something that was usually a problem for him, and when it _was_, he simply found something to occupy his time. It was hard when he was in cramped quarters with his brother, and the list of things to do, was very small.

"Bored?" Jim asked, from the front seat.

Caleb had taken over driving after their lunch stop. One of the perks of having both of them on the trip, they could take turns driving to give the other a break.

"Kind of," Dean admitted, as he cupped his chin in his hand as he continued to star at the passing cars and vans.

"It's not much longer. Only about another hour or so."

"Half-hour if you factor in my driving," Caleb countered, with a smirk.

He knew how much Jim hated it when he pushed the speed limit.

"I know," Dean said, shrugging. "It's fine."

Complaining was never really his style. Instead, he preferred to ride out whatever discomfort he had, until it was over and done with. That included the temporary feeling of boredom.

Sam was more impulsive, and got impatient easily when he didn't have something to do that would occupy his mind.

Dean tended to be the exact opposite,and tried to hold everything in as much as he could. The way he figured it, it wouldn't do him any good to make a big deal out of something when there could be a better way to fix it.

"When are we going to be there?" Sam asked.

"About another half-hour, hour," Caleb said. "Not too much longer."

Caleb was just as eager as the boys to get there. It had been too long since he had seen his old friends, and it would be a welcome reprieve from the same old town, and the same job and routine that he had become accustomed to.

"I want to show Jo some new tricks I learned," Sam said, eagerly.

"What tricks?" Dean asked, curious in spite of himself.

"I learned some new somersaults on the trampoline," Sam said proudly, "and I can show them to her."

"Sounds good, dude," Caleb said, trading secretive smiles with Jim. "Maybe you can also show her the cool trick _I_ showed you."

"What?"

"Count backwards by burping."

"Oh, yeah!" Sam said, giggling.

"Please don't do it here," Dean said, groaning, already having heard enough of that when Sam had first showed it to him.

"Don't be a party snooper, Dean," Sam said, using the wrong terminology.

"_Snooper_," Jim corrected him with a smile.

"Whatever," Sam said flippantly, using the kind of word that Dean would have used in the same situation.

It was nearing dinner time by the time the small pulled into the Harvelle's winding dirt driveway. Eager to get out and stretch out the kinks in their muscles, Sam and Dean both hopped out of the car well before it had even fully stopped.

"A little eager?" Caleb asked teasingly, as he got out along with Jim.

"More than a little," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "My legs are finally getting feeling back."

"And I bet your stomach is growling," Ellen said, as she came down the steps of the wrap-around porch she and Bill had. "Long time no see, sweetie," she said, as she gave Dean a quick hug, knowing he wasn't particularly fond of those kinds of displays of affection.

"It's good to see you," Dean said, as he shocked her by returning the hug.

"You, too. And you," she said, picking Sam up and tickling his sides. "Jo's missed you, she wants to show you some things up in her room."

"Well," Jim said, "that's a coincidence. Sam had some things _he _wanted to show her, too."

"Well, you better get up there, then. And you," she said, turning to Caleb, "I missed you the last time."

"I missed you, too," he said, smiling warmly as he reciprocated the hug she gave him. "How are you guys doing?"

"We're managing. Bill is in there getting some of his research together to show you. I couldn't even pry him away from it when you guys rolled up."

"Well, we won't take it personally," Jim said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Well, good."

"Do you know what he's cooking up?" Caleb asked, as they slowly made their way up the steps and into the open and spacious living room/kitchen.

"Some possessions," Ellen said, as she checked on the food that she had been cooking, "some hauntings, and some omens, I believe."

"Okay."

It had been awhile since Caleb or Jim had come up against demonic omens. Usually they signified that a demon was in a certain area if certain signs started appearing in that area.

Usually, the guys just dealt with run-of-the-mill possessions and spirits, and their work was done. Not so this time, apparently.

"He wanted you to help him figure it all out, if you could."

"We'll do what we can," Jim promised, as he took a seat at the table.

"Can I go upstairs and see Jo?" Sam asked, eager to see his friend again.

"Sure, sweetie," Ellen said, "and tell her that she has to do her homework."

"Okay," Sam said brightly, glad to have a job to fulfill.

"Well, it's about time!" Bill said, as he came out of his study to greet his friends. "It's good to see you."

"You, too," Jim said, as he shook the hunter's hand.

"Roads were good?"

"Yeah," Caleb shrugged. "Traffic was the only problem."

"That'll do it," Bill said, as he took a seat at the dining table with his friends. "So how are you?"

"Good," Caleb said, "I'm doing good."

For the most part, he had recovered from his time behind bars, and more recently, the surprise Wendigo attack.

"Good," Bill said, shaking his head in astonishment at all that his friends had gone through. "You know hunting is a risky pool to dive into, but you never think about it until something happens to you or someone close to you."

"Yeah," Caleb said, "believe me, it took me by surprise, too."

"But everything's okay, now?" Ellen pressed.

"Yeah," Caleb assured her. "Probation is done, and it's behind me for the most part."

"Well, good," Bill said. "Good attitude, good outcome."

"Yeah. So Ellen mentioned that you had some cases you needed our _expert _help on?" Caleb said with a laugh.

"Yeah, actually, if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

"How long have you been back in the game?" Bill asked curiously, as he got his research organized.

"Not too long—small cases here and there," Caleb said.

"Got it."

Sliding the clippings that he had cut from the newspaper, across to them, Bill watched as Caleb, Jim and Dean bent over the articles.

"Demonic omens everywhere you look," he said, watching as the wheels in their heads turned. "Never seen anything like it."

"Where are they originating from?" Jim asked, a slight frown appearing on his otherwise calm face.

"I couldn't decipher that yet, but the most recent ones are from all around here and in towns near us."

Something in one of the articles had caught Dean's attention, as he leaned foreword to inspect it again. "Nursery fires?"

"Yeah," Bill said, as he twirled his pen thoughtfully. "I noticed that, and that's why I thought of you guys, because I know-"

"That's how my Mom died," Dean said, looking down to avoid the looks of sympathy and loss from the people around him.

Even though it had been so long since his parents had died, he had never fully come to terms with it, and instead tended to bury as much of the pain as he could, by focusing on the family that he had now, and the wonderful life they had managed to give him and his brother.

"So the mothers died in the nursery?" Caleb asked, reaching over to rub Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, far as I can tell. Besides that, you have your typical omens: cattle mutilations, electrical shortages, and temperature fluctuations."

All the classic signs of a demon.

"Find out where the first fire originated," Caleb said. "And in the meantime, let's go to the latest vic's house."


	17. Chapter 17

"What if this is the real deal?" Dean asked, as he watched Caleb and Jim sort out the weapons that they would need in case they came up against _the _demon.

"Then we'll as ready as we can be," Caleb said, as he packed some holy water and multiple rounds of ammunition in his bag. "Right now, we're only going to interview one of the more recent vic's."

Dean nodded, anxiously switching from one foot to the other as he watched his guardian's progression. "But what if this is _real_? How are you going to kill it?"

After all, this demon had been responsible for pinning his mother to the ceiling of Sammy's nursery, and then setting his mother and the nursery on fire. This wasn't a typical demon with typical demonic powers, this was something else entirely.

"We'll cross that road when we come to it," Caleb said, as he double-checked the weapons that he had with him. "And if we need to, exorcise it, send the son of a bitch right back to hell where it belongs."

For the guys, they kept their eyes out for signs of the demon for years, but they had never been able to pick up a pattern again, until now. Truth be told, they didn't know how they would handle killing the demon if they actually came face-to-face with it.

So many things could be used to kill it, so many things had the potential to either work, or not. That was why they were going into prepared.

For the moment, they were only going to interview the husband of one of the girl's who had died recently, but after that, they had no idea where they were going. They would base that decision on what the man said when they spoke with him.

"I want to be there."

Dean had waited his entire life, or so it felt like it, to kill that demon and finally avenge his mother's death.

"You can't go," Caleb said softly, as he finished what he was doing, and locked eyes with the indignant twelve-year-old.

"Why _not_?"

After all, this was a demon that had torn apart his family. To not be allowed to go, was absolutely infuriating to him, and also completely disappointing.

"Because you haven't had the training," Caleb explained calmly, "because we have no idea what we're going up against, and I would feel much better if you were here with Ellen, watching out for Sammy and Jo."

Dean understood the logic behind the decision, but that didn't mean he had to like it. In fact, he _hated _it, but once his guardians put their foot down about something, it was normally very final.

"I don't care," Dean argued, knowing that wouldn't gain him a lot of credit. "I _need _to go—I can be in the background, I'll do whatever you tell me to, but I _want_ to go."

"Dean," Caleb said, as he dropped his bag to place his hand on the child's shoulder. "I know what this feels like, believe me, I do. But right now, I want to keep you safe from this. You have not had the training to deal with something like this, and sending you into the battle right now, would be suicide."

Dean shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, as a single tear slid down his face and into his mouth. He tasted saltwater, but didn't care.

"I can handle it. You'll be there to back me up," he whispered brokenly. "All I've wanted is to kill that son of a bitch for killing my _Mom_," Dean urged. "You got revenge on the thing that killed _your _wife, why can't I?"

"Because," Caleb said, shaking his head. "I won't let that thing take you, too. I'll work with you, Dean, we'll work on some more advanced fighting moves, and how to exorcise demons, but right this second, you're not prepared for this."

It wasn't a slam against Dean, either. It was the truth that he hadn't had the proper training on how to deal with something of that magnitude. So far, the only creatures he knew how to properly take care of, were the spirits and poltergeists.

Sending him into the field as he was right then, would be suicide, and it would put Caleb, Jim and Bill in danger by having to jump in and protect him when he wasn't ready for something that big.

It was better for everyone, especially Dean, if he stayed back for this one. No matter how much he fought it, or wanted to be involved, it was better for him in the long run if he was with Ellen and Sam.

The most frustrating part for Dean, was that he knew Caleb was right. There was no way he was prepared physically _or _emotionally to take this kind of thing on.

"What if it hurts you? Or Jim? Or Bill?"

"There's strength in numbers. There's three of us and one of _it_."

Dean nodded, still not liking the fact that he couldn't go, but also realizing when a battle was lost, and this was one of those times, unfortunately.

"I still want to go."

"I know, but next time," Caleb promised. "Right now, I want you here."

"Okay."

* * *

The latest victim's house wasn't far from where Bill and Ellen lived. It was situated on a secluded part of land that looked like it had seen better days, as Caleb and Jim walked up the snow-covered brick pathway to the front door.

Bill had opted out of going in, believing that their cover would be more believable if it was two going in instead of three.

"We're sorry for intruding," Jim apologized, as the man invited them inside.

"No, it's okay. You said you were from the paper?"

"Yes," Caleb said, "we're just trying to understand what happened here."

The first floor of the home, looked relatively undamaged, though it was the upstairs they were itching to see, especially the nursery where the fire had originated from.

"_I _don't even understand it," the man said, shaking his head, as he took another sip of his Scotch. "One second, my wife was singing a lullaby to our daughter, and then the next second, she was burning on the ceiling!"

"Of the nursery," Jim prompted.

"Yes. Now tell me how that happens? The fire department is saying that it was some electrical shortage in the walls or something, but how do you explain my wife dying like that?"

There _was _no explanation—at least none that would make sense to the poor man who was grieving the loss of his family, life as he once knew it.

"I'm very sorry," Caleb said.

What else _could _he say?

"If you don't mind," Jim said, treading carefully, "do you mind if we saw the upstairs?"

The man shrugged, tears lining his brown eyes. "Sure. The police are done with it."

"How much of it was destroyed?" Caleb asked, as they moved toward the staircase.

"Only the nursery—the firefighters were able to keep it pretty well contained."

"Okay."

The nursery was down the hall on the second floor. It was pretty well destroyed. Everything was either burned to a crisp, or melted into nothing. Glass shards covered the floor, making it difficult and precarious to walk, as the men carefully picking their way across it.

"She burned up there?" Jim asked, pointing to the ceiling."

"Right above the crib," the man said, motioning toward where the crib used to be, directly next to the window. "I heard the baby crying, and then I saw the blood...and she was on the ceiling."

"Is your baby okay?" Caleb asked, as he bent down to inspect something questionable.

"Yes. For the most part. We had her checked out at the hospital, and she had inhaled some smoke, but she was okay."

"Good," Caleb said distractedly, as he brushed his fingers along a small pile of wooden debris. "Come check this out," he whispered to Jim.

"What is it?"

Caleb out his hand, and the foul-smelling yellow dust that was coating his fingers. "Sulfur."

The telltale mark of a demon. Whenever a demon entered an area or a room, they would usually leave sulfur behind.

"You think it's the demon?"

"Probably."

After bidding the man farewell, they returned back to the kids and Ellen. Dean was chomping at the bit to ask what had happened, and wasn't disappointed when Caleb filled him in later.

"What happened?"

"The nursery was burned to a crisp. The baby's fine."

"Was it the demon?" Dean asked, as he settled himself on the arm of the chair Caleb was sitting in.

"I think so. There was some sulfur that was left behind."

"Are you kidding?"

"No. Whatever it was, it was long gone, though."

Dean nodded, trying not to be disappointed. "Okay."

He supposed he should be glad that the demon hadn't been there, that he hadn't lost his chance to one day get revenge for his parents, and the life that he could have had if the demon hadn't broken into the nursery.

"We'll get there," Caleb said, "one day, we'll find it."

"I know."

Their moment of solitude, was short-lived. Bill, having just been on the phone with one of his friends, interrupted the bonding moment.

"Caleb, we got to hit the road."

"Why?" Caleb asked, already standing up.

"My friend Joshua just called. He said that he has a demon in his shop under a Devil's Trap, the thing said something about you guys."

"What did he say?"

"I don't know. Something about Sam."


	18. Chapter 18

It wasn't often that the guys encountered a demon that was actually brazen enough to spout out information—whether it was false or not—about the boys. Usually, they performed the exorcisms and went on their merry way.

It was an entirely different matter when they received word on a demon that claimed to have information on one of the boys; coming so close on the heels of the nursery fires, it couldn't be a coincidence that this demon was hanging around town.

Bill's friend, Joshua, had caught the demon prowling around his shop, and had quickly subdued him. That was when the demon had started manically rambling about something to do with Sam, and the plans he had for the precocious eight-year-old.

"What do you think this demon knows?" Caleb whispered to Jim, as they walked in behind Bill into Joshua's weapons and ammunition shop.

"I don't know," Jim said. "It might be a trick. Demons aren't exactly known for their _honesty_."

"Yeah," Caleb said, as he fingered the smooth handle of his hunting blade. "Or it could be telling the truth."

That's why they had to check it out. Any lead that concerned one of the boys, they had to check out to make sure it wouldn't pose any threat to Sam or Dean.

The demon had been bound inside a protective Devil's Trap circle, rendering the demon incapable of making any move against the hunters who had captured it. It was tied to a straight wooden chair, with Joshua keeping an eye on it until the guys arrived.

"Found this bitch creeping around here," Joshua said, as he looked up when his friends entered the room. "I was about to exorcise, usual ritual, but then she started talking about those two boys that you have," he said, looking at Jim and Caleb, "and I figured I better hold onto her."

"Well, it's appreciated," Caleb said, shaking his hand. "Thank you."

"You bet."

Joshua left soon after that—not wanting to intrude on the private interrogation session that had become so personal in a matter of only minutes.

Stepping toward the trap, but careful not to step over the line, Caleb turned and addressed the demon that was riding a twenty-something body.

Feeling his heart swell with pity for the girl who was trapped inside her own body, Caleb wanted to get the interrogation session over with quickly in order to free the girl from her own prison.

Whenever he could, he avoided killing the victim. Not unless it was absolutely necessary, and when it was a life or death situation, did he kill someone human. It was a personal, moral code that he tried his best to hold onto.

"What do you know about Sam?" Caleb asked, not bothering to beat around the bush, as he leaned as close as he could to the demon without actually stepping over the line.

"You didn't ask very nice," the demon smiled.

Caleb nodded, smiling harshly. "Bitch, what do you know about Sam?"

"Well, well," she said, tsking in fake disapproval. "Do you kiss your wife with that mouth? Oh," she smiled sickly. "I forgot...you don't."

"You think this is a game!" Caleb yelled, as he stepped over the line. "You tell me right now what you know," he said, as he gripped the girl's jaw with his hand and poured some holy water down her throat. "Or so help me, this will be a _cakewalk _compared to what will happen to you!"

The holy water wouldn't hurt the innocent girl trapped inside, but would sure as hell hurt the demon taking over her body for itself.

"You can go to hell!" the demon yelled, spitting the water back at Caleb's face.

"Wrong answer."

Picking up the small salt bag he had brought with them, he took a handful of it and shoved it into the demon's mouth. The demon coughed, sputtering, as it tried to spit out the toxic combination of the water and salt.

It had to be horribly painful from what he had heard, and he was hoping it would get it talking.

"We can do this all night, but you're still not getting a _word _out of me!"

"We'll see."

Using his last resort, the exorcism ritual that he had memorized long ago, he started reading, hoping it would entice the demon to start talking. If it didn't, at least the poor girl would have her life back, if the demon started talking, they would perhaps get some answers.

"Wait! Wait!" she yelled, when Caleb was halfway through the ritual. "I'll talk," she said, even though she eyed him like she wanted to see him fry on a spit. "I'll talk," she panted.

"Good," Caleb said roughly. "Tell me what you know. Now!"

"I don't know a lot," she said. "I _swear_, but what I _do _know, came from my father."

"Your father?"

"Yes. He doesn't trust a lot of us—thinks that we have to earn it or something," she said, giving a mirthless laugh, "but all he would tell me was that he had _plans _for Sam."

"Plans?" Caleb demanded. "What does that mean?"

"I _don't _know."

Plans?

What could that possibly mean unless the demon was lying? What plans could a demon have for an eight-year-old child?

Shaking his head, he resumed the exorcism ritual, intent on freeing the poor girl from the poison that had infiltrated her body.

"What are you doing!" She shrieked. "I told you everything I know!"

"I don't care," Caleb said, through gritted teeth. "You can burn in hell." 

Once the ritual was finished and the girl had been taken to a local hospital to recover, Caleb and Jim finally had a chance to consider everything that the demon had said.

"What do you think she means?" Caleb asked, as they returned to Bill and Ellen's.

"I don't know—we don't know if she's lying, if the demon she was close to, was lying. We don't know," Jim said, as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I don't know—the signs popping up all over here, this bitch saying those things? It's too closely related to be coincidental."

"Well, what do we do from here?"

"I don't know, see if we can find out more."

"Alright. What do we tell the boys?"

"I don't want to mention this to Sam. I'll think of something to tell Dean," Caleb said. "Even though I dread it."

"Okay. Somehow or another, we'll figure out the truth."

"I hope so."


	19. Chapter 19

Still stupefied by what the demon had revealed to him and Jim, Caleb returned to the Harvelle's with a heavy, confused heart. It was different when the demons started spouting out crap about himself or one of his friends.

It was a whole different matter when demons started saying things about the boys Jim and Caleb both adored, and it certainly brought out their protective instincts, and the need to know more.

Well, they had gotten the information they had sought, but it wasn't what they had been expecting at all. A demon had plans for Sam. Most likely, the same demon who had been responsible for murdering his family, and setting him on the course he was on now.

Jim and Caleb had elected _not _to tell Sam about the revelations that had fallen on their laps that night. Instead, they would test the waters, see if they could unearth more clues and answers, and tell him later, when he was old and mature enough to deal with it.

It was entirely different with Dean. Caleb knew Dean would be practically breathing down his neck, demanding the answers that he most likely _didn't _want to hear, but would hear anyway, thanks to brutal honesty that he and Caleb shared between them.

The boys were still up when Jim and Caleb returned to Ellen and Bill's. Sam was nearly jumping off the walls, after having one of Ellen's homemade apple pies for dessert, but it was time for bed, and even a hyperactive Sam realized that.

"Do I _have _to go to bed?" he asked, his lips turning upward into an adorable pout. "Superheros don't have bedtimes, you know."

He, Jo and Dean had been playing superhero games while the guys had been gone, and was clearly still entertaining the notion that _he _was a real life superhero.

"Yes," Caleb said, as he dramatically lifted into the air and (gently) slammed him down on the bed. "Even superheros have a bedtime. All that saving," he said playfully, as he tickled Sam, "they have to be tired at the end of the day."

"Spiderman doesn't get tired," Sam stated, as he laughed.

"Well, Spiderman is the exception, but you need to sleep."

Sam yawned, apparently giving himself up to it, even though he _really _didn't want to. "Okay."

"I love you, Sammy," Caleb said, as he hugged him goodnight. "Sleep tight."

"And don't let the bedbugs bite," Sam said, showing a toothy grin.

"_Especially _them," Caleb said with a smile.

"Wait," Sam said, as he saw Caleb about to leave the room. "Can you—can you put salt down for me?"

"Why?" Caleb asked, as he paused to look back at the eight-year-old. "Did something scare you?"

"No," Sam said, avoiding Caleb's eyes as he stared down at his comfy comforter that kept him warm at night. "Can you just put some down for me?"

Something wasn't right, and Caleb knew it as he turned back and walked back over to Sam. "I can, but first I want to know what's got you so freaked."

Sam didn't answer at first. "Nothing, really."

"What does 'nothing really' mean?" Caleb asked, as he raised an eyebrow.

"I saw something today."

"What did you see?" Caleb asked, as he sat down on the edge of Sam's bed.

"I was playing with Dean and Jo, and then I saw someone out the window."

Caleb's heart sank like a stone into his stomach, as it started beating erratically in time with the rushing of the blood in his ears.

Someone watching the kids? That wasn't good, and it terrified Caleb.

"Who was watching you?" he asked, trying to stay calm so Sam would feel more free to open up to him.

"I don't know."

"Did you see him?"

"Yeah."

Sam's eyes lowered, as he considered the position he was in. The thing that he had seen, had really freaked him out, but he didn't want to be thought of as a baby, and so he didn't want to raise a big deal out of nothing.

"What did he look like?"

Apparently, it meant something to Caleb or he wouldn't be asking him all those questions.

"I couldn't see him clearly."

"Can you describe what you _did _see?"

"Describe?"

Even though he was a walking talking dictionary of everything that he had learned up until that point, he was clueless as to what "describe" meant.

"Can you tell me what he _looked _like?" Caleb amended.

Sam thought about it for a second to make sure he would give an accurate a description as he could.

"He was tall," he finally said.

"Taller than me? Or shorter than I am?"

"Shorter."

"Did you see his face?"

"Not really."

"You didn't see his teeth or eyes?"

Sam shook his head. "I didn't see his teeth. I saw his eyes."

"And what were they?"

"Yellow."

* * *

Caleb laid down the salt line, and stayed with Sam until he fell asleep, before quietly leaving to find Dean and fill him in on what had transpired during their surprising conversation.

The fact that a person, probably a demon, had been spying on Sam while he had been playing, was deeply disturbing to Caleb, and he knew that Jim would most likely feel the exact same way as he did.

Not to mention Dean.

Any mention of his little brother being put in danger, and Dean instantly morphed from a sensitive, quiet kid to a protective, fierce papa bear.

He found him in his room, propped up on one elbow as he read something.

"Hey," Dean said, looking up when Caleb came in. "Where were you?"

"With Sammy."

"Is he asleep?" Dean asked, as he made room for Caleb to sit down.

"Yeah, _sound _asleep."

"Good," Dean said with a smirk. "So what's up?"

"Can you put the book down?"

Dean nodded, setting it aside. "What's wrong?" he asked, his eyebrows creasing together in confusion.

"I was putting Sam to bed, and he wanted me to lay down a line of salt."

"_Why_?"

Sam had never made that request before—even when he had been scared out of his wits after Dean had spilled their family secrets.

"He said that he saw a _yellow _eyed man out the window while you two and Jo were playing earlier. Do you remember seeing anything like that?"

"_No_," Dean said immediately. "I never saw anything like that—I never even saw a car pass while we were playing, and if I had seen anything like that, I would have told you or Bill or Jim right away."

"I know you would have," Caleb assured him, "I was just curious if you had remembered seeing anything."

"No."

"Well, it freaked your brother out, that's for sure."

"Yeah, I bet. But he's okay now?"

"Yes."

"Good," Dean said, as he settled back down. "So what now?"

"Now we have to find out everything we can about anyone with yellow eyes that lives around here."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Dean said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, right."


	20. Chapter 20

"While I was interrogating that demon earlier," Caleb said, as he and Dean packed to leave the Harvelle's. "It said something about Sam."

One of the things that Caleb had absolutely dreaded, was telling Dean about the conversation he had had with the demon that Joshua had caught in his shop. For all he knew, the demon could be lying, which was a huge possibility, or it could be telling the absolute truth.

"What...what did it say?" Dean asked, as put a bag of his in the trunk one-handed.

"It said that her _father _had plans for Sam."

It was obvious that revelation had startled the twelve-year-old as he turned his hazel eyes on Caleb. Wide, fearful and uncertain, the way he got only when someone threatened someone close to him.

In this case, his brother.

"What plans?" Dean asked incredulously, as he followed Caleb back toward the house to get more stuff. "What does that even _mean?_"

"I don't know. All I know is what I was told, and that was that a demon had plans for him."

What those plans were, they had no idea or where to even begin in searching for the answers they needed in order to make crucial decisions on how best to protect the boys from this new, unforeseen danger.

"That's all she said?"

"She wasn't exactly in the _sharing_

kind of mood. I tried getting her to elaborate, but she wouldn't."

Dean shook his head in disbelief as he walked back into the Harvelles spacious dining area. "Well, what do _you _think?"

"I think we have to be careful, keep our heads down for awhile."

"What about that Yellow-eyed freak?"

"We're looking," Caleb assured him.

Bill was contacting everyone he could think of that would help him in identifying any yellow-eyed demons, and also any people in the area that had that strange of an eye color.

"And in the meantime?" Dean pressed, wanting to make sure of their plan so _he _would know it.

"And in the meantime, we're going to do everything _in _and _beyond _our power to protect you _both_."

It wasn't just Sam they were worried about, it was Dean and his close association with Sam that they were also worried about. Any time the demon could decide to try to make a move against both of them, and they would be none the wiser until it was too late.

Dean nodded, trying to take whatever iota of peace that he could from that statement. He knew it was no lie, he knew that his guardians would go above and beyond to make sure they would be well protected.

"Do you think Sam is in danger?" Dean asked, as they prepared to move more stuff out.

"I...I don't know what to think right now. For the time being, I would feel a lot safer if you two were at home more, that's for sure."

That would be tricky—they both had school starting up again soon, and any unexplained absences would be sure to raise suspicion, but Caleb didn't really care what people thought at that point. If it kept the boys safe, they would absolutely do it.

"Okay."

Dean would go along with whatever they wanted he and Sam to do. They knew more about those kinds of things than he did, certainly.

"In the meantime, let's go home and regroup there."

"Sounds good."

Everything would seem better once they were in the comfort and security of their own home.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter was so short. I am wrapping this one up to do my sequel to this. I hope I will see you there! In the meantime, a few more chapters for this one.**


	21. Chapter 21

For the next several weeks, the guys watched both boys like hawks. Much to Dean's relief, (even though he would never admit that), and to Sam's much discussed chagrin over being "babied."

While they had been glad to return to the safety and familiarity of Minnesota, the feeling of being watched, of danger lurking just behind the corner, never entirely went away from not only the guy's minds, but the kids as well.

Dean, being more in tune with what Caleb and Jim were thinking, was more effected by the sudden changes that had suddenly assaulted his life; while Sam took everything they did with a cautious and quiet sense of nervousness.

And even though Sam lived and breathed school and all of the stimulation that he received there, he had to put up with the fact that, for his own safety, he would have to miss a week or two to be on the safe side.

There had been a time, not too long before all of this, that Sam had been taken from their previous school by a demon, and while Sam hadn't been aware that his teacher had been possessed, Dean and the guys had been all too aware of that horrifying fact, and had to switch schools as a result of the havoc that had been wreaked there.

"Do you think it's safe yet?" Dean asked, as he stared out the window at the barely risen sun.

His body was so used to waking up at a certain time, that it had naturally woken him up right before he was due to get ready for school. Of course now, things were different.

For the last several days, he had missed school on the guy's advice, and was becoming more than a little stir crazy as a result.

"My gut says no," Caleb said, as he looked at the anxious child, "but my brain says it's fine."

"What if one of them is wrong?" Dean asked, as he walked back over to the table and slumped back down in his chair.

"Well, hopefully it's my gut that's wrong."

"Have you found anything more about any demons or people with yellow eyes?"

While they had still been vacationing at the Harvelle's, Sam had confided in Caleb that he had witnessed a man with yellow eyes, spying on him and his brother while they had been playing with Jo.

The sighting had terrified Sam, and had gotten his guardians on high alert for anything out of the ordinary, and setting out special precautions to keep Sam and his brother safe.

"That I've made some progress on," Caleb said with a sigh. "I talked to Bobby."

"And what did he say?" Dean asked, as he reflexively leaned foreword in his seat to pay extra special attention.

"He said that over the last decade or so, there have been a string of unsolved fires all over the place."

"In nursery's?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. The same signs that we saw in Nebraska. Cattle mutilations, electrical shortages, that kind of thing, and they originated in Lawrence."

"Right before-"

"Right before your Mom," Caleb said gently. "And after that, it was quiet for several years, right up until this point."

"So," Dean guessed angrily, "the son of a bitch is upping his game now that he's out of _hibernation_ or something?"

"I don't know, " Caleb said, "but what we _do _know is the most important."

"Yeah," Dean said heavily, "and that's that we're finally getting a line on the thing that killed our Mom, and it's gunning to take my brother, too."

"No," Caleb said, shaking his head, as he looked Dean straight in the eye. "I don't care what it wants, but it's not getting it. Especially if it wants Sammy."

It was unspoken that that family would fight to the death for each other, and while none of them wanted it to end like that, it also brought a strange sense of comfort knowing that through thick and thin they always had each other's backs.

"That's right," Jim said, as he came into the kitchen, already dressed for work. "Nothing is ever getting any of you boys."

Dean nodded, as he fiddled with his shirt. "I know."

And what an awesome feeling that was. To know how loved and protected he was by the people in his life that truly loved and adored he and his brother.

He couldn't truly couldn't be luckier, even if Yellow-Eyes _was _out there, even if their next move was still uncertain, at least they had their family intact. At least nothing could ever break apart the bonds they had all established with one another.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading! Sequel coming up!**


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